


You Can't Choose What Stays (and what fades away)

by chasingshadows



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, but there is a /happy/ ending i swear, post-Vernon's death, road trip trope, season 1-2 canon compliant, season 3a canon divergent, slow-build, sooooooooo much angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-31 00:25:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 31,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1025161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingshadows/pseuds/chasingshadows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She felt a cold rush. When she looked up, Vernon was there. Of course he was. She narrowed her eyes. He looked liked he always looked - firm, kind, but the token smile he always had around her was missing. He still wore the outfit she’d last seen him in, the blue vest accenting strong arms she wanted nothing more than to crawl into.</p><p>“You’re not real.” </p><p>“I don’t know what I am.” He looked so sad and every fiber of her body screamed at her to go to him, to rub the frown from his face. </p><p>“You’re dead. You died, I watched it happen. I heard you say-”  Lydia cut off that train of thought, starting over. “Hearts are considered unrevivable after 45 minutes and yours was-” Lydia swallowed, catching her breath. She smacked her lips. “You can’t be real.” </p><p>“Why not?”</p><p>Lydia drew in a shaky breath and closed her eyes against him. “Because I want you to be.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. But it's so hard my love, to say it to you

**Author's Note:**

> *heavy sigh*  
> So this had been a labor of love. Check the end notes for more warnings/additional information about timelines and such. This is a roller coaster and I'm not sorry. Enjoy!
> 
> Also feel free to hit me up on [ twitter](https://twitter.com/chasingshhdws) (aka my feels palace) or on [my tumblr!](http://chasingshhadows.tumblr.com/)

Lydia screamed.

Everyone around her clutched at their ears, Aiden releasing her and backing away as she collapsed to the ground. The alphas looked like they were still shouting but Lydia couldn’t hear what they said, her vocal chords still bleating out the mournful wail. She couldn’t stop but she didn’t care because Vernon was there and he wasn’t moving. When her scream finally died down, she stumbled across the loft to him, shouting his name as Kali and Ethan moved past her and out of the loft. She dropped to her knees when she reached Vernon, gripping his jacket tightly in her hands, running them over his chest.

“Vernon...” Lydia whimpered weakly, voice raspy. “Wake up, sweetheart, please wake up.”

But he didn’t. Because he wouldn’t. Not again.

Lydia choked on her tears, gasping out sobs that came without her permission, overwhelming her as she threw herself over Vernon. Convulsions wracked her body and tears mixed with the water drenching Vernon’s clothes from the floor of the loft.

Time passed and Lydia could never say how much - long enough for her to work herself into and out of hyperventilation several times. Long enough for the water to cool to a point past cold, leaving Lydia shivering over Vernon’s lifeless body. Long enough for the tears to run out, for her body to be too exhausted to cry anymore.

Wide hands closed around her shoulders and tried to lift her up. She could hear a soothing voice in her ear, but she couldn’t make out the words as she squirmed out of his grasp, throwing herself back over Vernon and wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.

“Lydia, we have to-” Stiles sighed deeply behind her, wrapping a hand over her shoulder. “We have to move his body.” His voice was world-weary and rough from his own tears.

But Lydia didn’t care. Large, darkly tanned hands closed around her forearms to pry her off and though she struggled and shouted “No!” over and over, Derek was stronger. He got her up and off of Vernon, pulling her back against his chest and crossing her arms over her own front. She thrashed at first, trying to reach for him and shouting until she finally slumped, crying tearlessly as Derek whispered apologies in her ear.

At some point she was passed off to Stiles, but by then she had checked out. She was pretty sure Stiles drove her home, but she didn’t remember it. All she remembered was looking up to find herself sitting alone in her room, noting the rust-colored stains that splotched her damp clothing and the chill that had set into her bones.

She swallowed, then reached up to rub her hand over her sore throat, and she remembered herself screaming. Remembered clinging to Vernon’s body for as long as she could, remembered Stiles and Derek pulling her away.

Her hands started to shake and she clenched them tightly, taking several deep, calming breaths, eyes closed. When she opened them again, she caught her reflection in the mirror. More prominent than her ruined wardrobe and messy hair was the thoroughly resolved expression on her face.

An hour later, she was showered, changed and in her car, a large duffel packed in her backseat. She’d left a note on the counter explaining to her mother that she needed some time.

She made a short detour over to Vernon’s house, sneaking in the back door like she always did - his foster mom tended bar most nights at the country club and wouldn’t be home until morning. Lydia wondered how long it would take her to notice her son’s disappearance, or if she even would.

Being in Vernon’s room was suffocating and Lydia very nearly lost it as she pulled his comforter and favorite pillow from his bed. As an afterthought she walked over to his dresser and pulled out several of her favorite shirts and a couple pairs of his pajamas - he never let her steal them before, but she supposed that didn’t matter now.

Her hands shook when she got back to the car, attaching her iPod to the center console and clicking her way to the playlist she was looking for - the one she’d been resolutely refusing to listen to.

_Lydia walked back up to her room after giving her mother advice on her outfit. “So I was-“ She stopped when she saw Vernon sitting at her computer, iTunes opened on the screen. Narrowing her eyes, she stalked over to him, heels dropping heavily on the carpeted floor. “What are you doing?”_

“ _Making you a playlist,” he replied, glancing over at her before returning to clicking and dragging songs._

“ _I don’t need any more music,” she told him, eyebrows scrunching together, bending over with her hands braced on the desk and looking back at him with a hair flip._

“ _Uh yeah, you do.”_

_Lydia jerked back upwards with an insulted noise, hands going to her hips. “Is that so?”_

“ _Your taste in music sucks,” he informed her, turning to her with a smirk._

_Her eyebrows rose in challenge. “Excuse me?”_

Lydia gave a small smile at the memory and clicked on the playlist titled _I promise you’ll like it_.

_In a way I need a change from this burnout scene, another time, another town, another everything._

And then she drove.

She drove until she didn’t know where she was, couldn’t point the way back home. Drove until her hands stopped shaking and her breathing settled. Drove until she’d made it through half of the hundred-song playlist. Drove until the sky started to lighten over the mountains she was surrounded by.

It was as the clouds rolled in, carrying a promise of rain to come, that it all crashed in on her. Vernon was dead. He was murdered by a pack of alphas seeking a revenge that had nothing to do with him. Well and truly stolen from her. Wiped from the world as if he didn’t matter, as if his life and his future and what he brought to those around him weren’t important.

But it was. _He_ was. Vernon was so much more than just collateral damage in the war he’d been swept up in. He was warmth and grounding - he anchored Lydia just as thoroughly as she gave him wings. He was everything she never knew she needed and became all she ever wanted.

_Death doesn’t happen to you, Lydia. It happens to everyone around you. To all the people left standing at your funeral, trying to figure out how they’re gonna live the rest of their lives now without you in it._

Tears blurred her vision and she wiped at them desperately, chest aching with repressed sobs. Lydia was trying to hold it together and failing. The gaslight came on just as blue and red lights flashed in her rearview mirror and a police siren started blaring.

Lydia sighed and glanced at the speedometer. 103. _Shit_.

She slowed down and pulled the car to the side of the road, trying to slow her heart down as she paused the music. Checking the mirror, she wiped again at the tears, ignoring the dead look in her eyes.

 _Tap, tap_.

The officer was standing at her window and Lydia rolled it down, turning off the car. “Ma’am, are you aware of how fast you were going?” he asked, eyes scanning over her own red ones and the bags that were surely under her eyes.

“I am now,” she responded in a clipped tone, voice still too rough.

The officer - Officer Dunham - squinted and tilted his head a little. “Have you been drinking?”

“I’m not drunk, I’m experiencing a grief-induced acute stress reaction and prolonged sleep deprivation.” She didn’t have time for this.

“Acu- what?”

“I’m in shock!” Lydia snapped. “Now will you please write me a ticket so that I can go find a hotel?”

Officer Dunham fumbled at that, mouth opening and closing uselessly for a moment before he swallowed and regained composure. “License and registration, please.”

She handed the paperwork up to him and gave him a _shoo_ gesture. Officer Dunham threw a glance back at her as he walked back to his patrol car, expression confused.

When she finally got back on the road, Lydia set the cruise and pulled off at the first exit she passed. She got gas, then headed for the Motel 6 a block up the road. It was cheap, but clean, and it wasn’t as if Lydia planned an extended stay. Just a few hours to sleep and then she could get back to the road to go… somewhere that wasn’t here.

After drawing closed the black-out curtains against the rising sun and dropping her bags on the second bed, she pulled the blankets and pillow from the other bed. Vernon’s blanket was thick and soft, something he’d kept from his mother, and she tossed it over the bed. Changing into his pj bottoms and one of his too-big shirts, Lydia grabbed the pillow, turned off the light and crawled into the bed, barely having rested her head down and closed her eyes when she heard it.

“Lydia?”

Her eyes snapped open almost audibly as she startled, looking around the room. She’d _heard_ him. That was Vernon’s voice, she knew it was, she’d know it any-

She was halfway off the bed to turn on the light when she stopped herself. “No. No, Lydia,” she reprimanded herself. Taking a deep breath, she settled herself back on the bed, fully under the covers. “He’s gone,” she said as another tear fell sideways down her cheek. Lydia breathed in Vernon’s scent, so fully surrounded by it that she could almost imagine he was there with her.

It took her hours to fall asleep, despite that her body was utterly exhausted. Every time she closed her eyes, flashes of Vernon’s body played in a macabre slideshow across the lids of her eyes and she’d snap them open with a gasp. And when she finally did sleep, it was restless. She tossed and turned, dreams filled with not images, but sensations - the cold, hard press of his wet body underneath hers, the slick rub of his blood between her fingers, the press of her ear to his chest, struggling in vain to hear a heartbeat - and she woke screaming.

Lydia bolted upright, breathing heavily. The clock on the desk told her she’d maybe gotten four hours of sleep. She sighed, straightened her back and wiped the tears from her cheeks.

Clearing her throat, she nodded. “It’s a new day, Lydia,” she told herself.

She laid out her make-up kit in front of the mirror. Her eyes were a mess, her skin blotchy and ashen. Swallowing the emotions threatening to bubble up, she got to work, each stroke deliberate and precise.

“Your face is your canvas,” her sister had always said. “And we’re just painting.”

She covered it all up, all evidence of her grief. She brought her face back to life with concealers and powders, coated her lips and lined her eyes as if today were any day, as if she hadn’t left her old life on the loft floor beside her dead boyfriend.

“ _Where do you think you’ll be in ten years?” Lydia asked, tilting her head a little._

“ _Huh?” Vernon glanced up at her from where he was tying his skates one row down. “Oh.” He shrugged. “I don’t know, I haven’t given it much thought.”_

_She leveled a skeptical stare at him, tugging on her own laces. “You must’ve given it some thought. Looked into good engineering schools, that sort of thing.”_

_Vernon’s face fell. “I can’t afford college, Lydia.” His voice was sad and like so many other times with him, Lydia felt like a complete nitwit._

“ _Oh. Wow, um.” She was lost for words, licking at her lips as she felt the severe gap between their worlds more than ever before. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t think-”_

“ _And that’s assuming I even make it to graduation, which between the hunters and alphas and whatever else is out there. . .” He trailed off, shaking his head._

_Lydia leaned forward, pressing her knee into the bench and placing a hand on Vernon’s shoulder. “Hey, don’t think like that. We made it this far, didn’t we?” She didn’t have anything better to offer him, so she just cupped his face in both hands and pressed her lips to his. Because no matter what happened to them, they still had this._

_Vernon pulled back suddenly, looking at her suspiciously. “I’ve never told you I was interested in engineering?” he noted, making it a question._

“ _Well, I have been known to pay attention to something other than myself at least occasionally,” she joked, trying to lighten the mood._

 _One side of Vernon’s mouth pulled up in a soft smile as he stroked her cheek with his broad thumb. “Where do you_ _see_ yourself _in ten years?”_

_Lydia looked up under her eyelashes, grabbing the hand at her face and placing it flat over her heart. “Next to you,” she said slowly, knowing he could both feel and hear the honesty in her words._

Her body was heaving and tears threatened to fall, but she willed them back, not having been stupid enough to put on non-waterproof mascara, but also not wanting to redo her blush. After a few deep breaths, she was ready to go, quickly packing up her things.

After she stopped to take care of her ticket, she got on the closest freeway and started up the playlist again.

_When it rains it pours and opens doors that flood the floors we thought would always keep us safe and dry._

\--

A week passed in a blur. Lydia kept up the nocturnal pattern, partly to avoid people but also because she felt closer to him then. Whether she was driving down an empty freeway or walking along an empty beach under the moonlight, she could feel his presence more once the sun went down, his playlist ever in her ear. It took her about five days before she was singing along to every song, letting herself get lost in them and drowning her sorrows in words and melodies that were less tragic than her life.

Nine days after she left - when she could finally say to herself that she didn’t blame the others for Vernon’s death and not feel like she was lying - she finally turned her phone on. Among a couple dozen texts from everyone, there was a voicemail from her mother, telling her to be safe and check in once a week, which she did then with a quick text. Four more voicemails from Stiles, two from Allison and one from Scott. She listened to them all before scrolling through the texts, discovering that Derek and Scott had buried Vernon’s body alongside Erica’s in the woods behind the Hale house, that she was missed at the small memorial they held for him.

Her chest felt hollow, reading such simple words spell out such world-shattering truths, and she was choking back more tears when she heard a soft “Don’t cry darlin’” from behind her. Gasping, Lydia jumped and spun around frantically, both disappointed and relieved to find no one there.

Lydia quickly gathered up her things and got back to her car. She’d been zig-zagging up the west coast, crossing the border into Oregon two days prior and staying a full night at a local bed and breakfast. Looking up to the sky, Lydia sighed, seeing clouds just begin to roll in behind her, carrying the promise of a spring storm to come.

“Oh, Vernon, I wish you were here. You always did love storms.” She could feel it brewing, almost like a hum in the air that she couldn’t shake. It was still forming, but she knew it would catch up with her in the coming days.

With that, Lydia got into her car and headed back north on the 101 for another day of driving. She still didn’t know where she was going, she just knew she wasn’t there yet.

_And the headlights on the highway cannot help me understand._

\--

“You can hear me, can’t you?”

The other driver honked angrily when Lydia jumped and swerved, nearly hitting the little blue Toyota in the next lane as she whipped around. But again, there was no one there. Lydia swallowed thickly, trying to settle her heartbeat.

“Vernon?” she asked the empty car, voice shaky and unsure. “Sweetheart, are you-”

Lydia cut herself off sharply, smacking her lips and shaking her head a little. “No, Lydia, don’t do this to yourself.”

It was the just the long drive, she told herself, because she’d been on the road for several hours today. It was just the stress and the loneliness finally getting to her. It was just because she hadn’t been sleeping well... maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to take something to help her sleep and then crash for the night.

She pulled off at the next motel she came across, a cabin-themed place in which - wearing Vernon’s camo zip-up hoodie - Lydia fit right in. After showering, Lydia performed her nightly routine of stripping the bedding and replacing it with the pillow and comforter that she hoped would forever carry his undefinable scent. This was much earlier than she normally stopped, but she still closed the curtains over the darkness, knowing it would be light soon.

It wasn’t until after Lydia had finally crawled into the bed, sitting up against the headboard and closing her eyes to just process her day, that she felt a cold rush. When she looked up, he was there. Of course he was. She narrowed her eyes. He looked liked he always looked - firm, kind, but the token smile he always had around her was missing. He still wore the outfit she’d last seen him in, the blue vest accenting strong arms she wanted nothing more than to crawl into.

“You’re not real.”

“I don’t know what I am.” He looked so sad and every fiber of her body screamed at her to go to him, to rub the frown from his face.

“You’re dead. You died, I watched it happen. I heard you say-”  Lydia cut off that train of thought, starting over. “Hearts are considered unrevivable after 45 minutes and yours was-” Lydia swallowed, catching her breath. She smacked her lips. “You can’t be real.”

“Why not?”

Lydia drew in a shaky breath and closed her eyes against him. “Because I want you to be.”

Sleep was difficult, restless and short-lived at first, and then deep and long, but full of nightmares. Memories.

_Aiden holding her back while she thrashed and shouted._

_Derek’s terrified expression as Kali lifted Vernon over him._

_The flash of Kali’s eyes when she knew she’d succeeded._

_Vernon’s last words, looking over to her just before he fell. “I’ll always love you.” She couldn’t even hear his voice over the blood rushing in her ears, but she would never forget the moment the light left his eyes. The moment she started screaming._

Lydia woke with a start, face wet with tears as it was most days since she left. She sat up in the bed, letting herself breath heavily for several minutes before even attempting to catch her breath. It wasn’t getting any easier and she feared it never would. Dropping her head into her hand, Lydia took three more deep breaths and then crawled out of the bed.

He stood in the corner next to the painting of the bear, watching her with crossed arms but not saying anything. Lydia ignored him, getting dressed and packed in record time. She didn’t bother with make-up, too anxious to get out of the room and away from her hallucinations.

_Loneliness pacing up and down these hallways, second-guessing every thought_

She was pretty sure she was somewhere near the coast at the border between Oregon and Washington. The sky was turning dark overhead as she drove north, heart heavy with nostalgia.

_The storm blew into Beacon Hills fast and hard, just a few days after the motel disaster, and Vernon’s eyes lit with excitement when the rain started streaking down the wall-length windows. He dragged her from the cafeteria, picking her up and tossing her over his shoulder when she dug her heels in and refused to go outside. It would ruin her hair, her make-up, drench her clothes - but Vernon just smiled wickedly and threw open the doors to the school. It was pouring rain and Lydia’s back was soaked by the time Vernon put her down in the middle of the parking lot._

_She glared at him, but couldn’t hold it long against his bright smile. After pulling off her strappy heels, Lydia took the hand Vernon held out to her and they took off running through the parking lot, the sound of the pounding rain not quite able to drown out the sound of their laughter. Lydia started to slip when they reached the wet grass and Vernon stopped and pulled her close, wrapping one arm tightly around her while the other hand brushed the wet hair from her face. His warmth radiated through her as he bent down to capture her lips._

Cold washed through her a second before he spoke. “Lyds,” is all he said and it punched a hole in her heart.

“No,” she replied automatically. And then berated herself. “Stop it, Lydia, do not engage the imaginary dead boyfriend in your car. Do not encourage bereavement hallucinations.” She kept her eyes on the road and swallowed past the lump in her throat. This wasn’t going to happen to her. She was level-headed and intelligent and rational.

“I’m not a hallucination.” Vernon’s voice was insistent. “I’m real, I’m _here_. I just don’t know how or why.”

Lydia ignored him. She took deep calming breaths and kept her eyes focused on the dashed lines flying past, refusing to look at him.

“I don’t know how to make you believe that I’m here.” His voice had grown dejected and Lydia snapped.

“No! You’re not! You’re dead. You _died_ , Vernon-” Lydia cut herself off, suddenly unsure of who she was trying to convince. She took several deep breaths, needing to acknowledge words that carried the finality she would never be ready for. “I watched the life fade from your eyes. I held your limp body and felt your unbeating heart. You are dead and you’re not coming back.” Her voice shook on the last words and she had to will back hot tears threatening to fall as each word weighed heavy in her heart.

His voice softened when he spoke next and she caught the aborted motion of his hand reaching for her out the corner of her eye. “I’m sorry, darlin’. . . I never wanted you to go through that. I’m so sorry,” he whispered again.

When she looked over, he was gone and she wasn’t sure if she was more relieved or saddened by that. 


	2. I never knew daylight could be so violent

Lydia pulled off to get food the next day, following her GPS to a small roadside diner and parking in the back of the lot. She got out of the car, tugging one of Vernon’s thicker flannels off the back of the driver’s seat and slipping into it. 

Leaning on her forearms up against the car, Lydia ducked her head and just tried to breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Her hands formed tight fists and she waited until she could loosen them before going into the restaurant, opting to stay and sit so that she could clear her head a bit - it had been a long, sleepless night. 

The reuben sandwich she ordered was heavy and warm against her palm as she carried it to the back window, sitting along the wall-length booth and setting down her food and drink. Reuben sandwiches were Vernon’s favorite, the first food he’d ever made for her. 

“ _I’m not eating that.” Lydia looked down at the plate in front of her, crossing her arms._

“ _Yes, you are,” he returned in a dry voice, setting his own sandwich on the round table and sitting next to her._

“ _I am not. I didn’t come over here to eat anyway, we were supposed to be going over the bestiary.” She pointedly eyed the USB drive sitting on the counter. It frustrated her that Derek still didn’t trust her just to take it home and Vernon was on strict alpha-voice orders not to let her copy the files while they translated together at his house - an arrangement only made because Peter always seemed to find his way to the loft when Lydia was there and she refused to be around him._

“ _And we will. But you’re eating something first.” He picked up one of the Doritos from his plate and crunched into it, giving her an un-budging look - one that she was growing to hate. Kind of. Not really._

“ _I don’t eat sauerkraut. Plus, it’s messy, it’s literally oozing sauce. It’s going to get all over my hands and my outfit.” Turning her nose up, Lydia flipped her hair and looked away from the table and at a spot on the wall over Vernon’s head._

“ _You ordered_ choucroute garnie _at dinner last week. And here,” he began, pulling a napkin from the holder and giving her a shit-eating grin. “Have a napkin. You’re eating and this is what I made, so deal with it.”_

“ _I’m not hungry.” She was just being purposefully difficult and they both knew it._

“ _Yes, you are. You’ve been stressing yourself out looking for Erica and helping Stiles and dealing with Isaac, Scott and Allison’s crap. So right now, you are going to sit and eat this sandwich with me.” He picked up his own sandwich to emphasize the point and took a bite._

_Lydia looked down, arms dropping and voice growing small. “It’s been four months.”_

_And Vernon didn’t say anything - he didn’t have to. His look said it all, said how much it meant to him that she cared so much, that she was working so tirelessly to find Erica. Lydia had never much cared for the girl, but Vernon had. She’d been his friend and when she disappeared, he’d been nearly as lost as Lydia was after Jackson left. Vernon swallowed and nodded._

_Taking a deep breath, Lydia picked up the sandwich awkwardly, trying to avoid getting any mustard on her fingers. It was as messy as she predicted, but tasted far better. She gave a little moan of surprise when she bit down and the explosion of flavor hit her tongue._

_A tiny dribble of Dijon escaped her mouth and ran down her chin, but then Vernon’s thumb was there to catch it. Once she’d swallowed, he pressed the digit between her lips and met her eyes, heat rising in their stare._

_They did get to the bestiary. Eventually._

Huffing out a soft laugh, Lydia took a large bite out of the reuben in front of her, ignoring the dribbles of sauce that fell onto the wax paper wrapper. It wasn’t as good as Vernon’s, but it was good and she was glad she’d given it a chance.

It had always been Vernon’s thing, getting her to try new things - whether it was food or music or movies or exploring Beacon Hills or even in bed. For most things, she'd resisted, partly because she was stubbornly set in her ways and partly because she loved the way he whittled her down, eating at her defenses. She would get riled up and furious because no matter how annoying or sassy she got, he never got angry or frustrated. He was patient and calm, and it was always his lack of rising to the bait that got her to crack. 

It use to infuriate her and get her going all at the same time, leaving her a confused mess because even when he pissed her off, she couldn’t stay away. And then one day, it all clicked. Vernon was the first person to truly challenge Lydia, to make her work for anything. He pushed her and puzzled her because he was never easily impressed by her looks or her intelligence, the two things she’d always fallen back on. He made her prove herself with her heart and her integrity, made her want to be a better person.

So eventually she stopped hating his determined expression and begun to get a thrill whenever she saw it, knowing that she would have to work for whatever came next. It was one of the things she missed most about him and would give anything in the world to see again.

It was just starting to drizzle when Lydia went back out to her car and she was unsurprised to find Vernon already sitting in the passenger seat. Anger began to seep into Lydia's blood. Her nostrils flared as she got into the car, ignoring the very same expression she'd just been lamenting. 

This wasn't helping, and it wouldn't do her any good. Seeing him, hearing him, _feeling him_ , allowing herself to be deluded like this just made everything _hurt_ , just poured salt into the raw wounds across her heart.

He just sat there for a while, watching her, watching the road, the trees flying past and the rain coming down. She pretended she couldn't see him, but she knew he caught the little glances she threw his way. It gnawed at her the way he was getting under her skin without doing anything, pushed all of her buttons without lifting a finger.

“Ughh!” she cried through gritted teeth. “Why won’t you just leave me alone?” Her fingers splayed out against the steering wheel, brightly painted fingernails fanning out with her frustration.

"Because you don’t actually want me to. And I don’t either.” He turned in the seat, propping one arm up on the window and pressing his knee up to the glove compartment, movement silent against the leather seats. 

He knew it irritated her when he sat like that, and she was about to scold him when she remembered he wasn’t actually there. So instead she went with, “You can’t want anything. You’re dead.”

“Yes, I’m aware,” Vernon snapped. “I got a first row seat to my own burial. Even Cora cried.”

Lydia’s heart gave an extra hard _thump_ for not having been there, but then she side-eyed Vernon suspiciously. “Now I know that’s not true.” In the eight months that she’d known Cora, even after all that had happened, Lydia had only seen her cry once - Erica’s funeral. And she’d never been particularly fond of Vernon, blaming him for leaving Erica in the woods. “I _must_ be hallucinating.”

“If you don’t believe me, then call _them_. Prove me wrong, Lydia. Ask them how Scott became an alpha, or why your English teacher was sacrificing people.” Vernon let that sit there for a moment, watching Lydia’s shock and then disbelief at his words. Scott would never kill anyone, especially not to become an alpha, and Ms. Blake. . . it just didn’t make any sense.

“For someone so brilliant, you are really stupid sometimes.” He seemed to take a deep breath, but there was no accompanying sound.

Lydia whipped her head around so fast her neck cracked. Her eyes were blown wide with fury, mouth open in shock. Before she could bluster and yell at him for actually saying that to her, it struck her that she was _shocked_ he’d actually said that to her. Shocked, by her own hallucination. 

Vernon mistook her hesitance and continued. “You're so caught up trying to be smart about this, you're ignoring everything else. And making an ass of yourself.”

“I think we can stop with the insults for one day, subconscious.” Lydia smacked her lips and looked back to the road, intent on ignoring the dead boyfriend in her passenger seat.

“Think about it, Lyds. The voices you heard at the motel, you were adamant that they were real. How is that any different?” 

Lydia fumbled, mouth opening and closing uselessly for a moment before she replied. “That - those were just death echos. Unsurprising, given the state of that-” Lydia stopped. She closed her eyes briefly and inhaled through her nose. Don’t engage him. Just ignore him. 

“You can believe death echos, but not this?” Vernon asked incredulously when she didn’t continue. "Are you being purposefully obtuse?"

Lydia gritted her teeth, but didn't respond. She reached to turn up the music, despite knowing it would do nothing to drown out the voices in her head. 

_I’m sorry ‘bout the attitude I need to give when I’m with you but no one else would take this shit from me_

“All the pieces are there, Lydia, you just refuse to put them together.” Her focus was dragged back to Vernon, straining to catch his words over the music. “Everything that’s happened, you’ve been ignoring it, shoving it in a box for way too long. And I let you, because I knew you would deal with it when you were ready.” Out of the corner of her eye, Lydia saw Vernon’s chest rise and fall with another sigh.

“But things have gone too far now. Finding all those bodies, hearing voices….” Vernon paused so long Lydia thought he might be finished. Her eyes slid over to him in time to catch his chest expand with an inhale and she knew the word he would say before he said it. “Peter.”

Lydia closed her eyes against the onslaught of memories, still choppy and hazy. The only part that was still clear to her was the beginning - the bite, the terror, Stiles screaming her name. Her heart thumped hard in her chest, painful with every beat, and she breathed, slow and deliberate.

“You’re the common denominator, Lydia. You were the one the psycho used, the one that found those bodies, the only one that could hear those voices.” 

Vernon’s hand reached over to hers, slow and hesitant, but at the last second, Lydia flinched away. She was afraid- though whether it was of what she would feel or wouldn’t feel, she couldn’t say. 

“You’re the only one that can see _me_ ,” the voice whispered beside her, desperate and barely audible. There was a short pause. “I don’t want to be alone again. You promised.”

Slamming on the brakes, Lydia pulled the car off to the side in a storm of mud and gravel and honking horns. She threw the car into park as the memory overwhelmed her.

“ _Why did you do it?” Lydia glanced up under her eyelashes at Vernon, tucked under his arm on the hood of her car. They were staring up at the full moon above them, the first one they were able to spend together. “Why did you say yes?”_

_Lydia felt him flinch a little, head turning down and away for a moment. When he met her eyes, they were wide and honest. “I didn’t want to be alone anymore.”_

_Manicured fists tightened in his jacket. She was angry - at herself, at her peers, at the world - that someone as kind and warm as Vernon had ever felt lonely enough, desperate enough that he could be pushed to_ this _. "Vernon, you'll never be alone again, okay? Not as long as I'm alive to do something about it." Her voice was fierce, words honest - they knew there were no guarantees in their lives, they'd lost enough to learn that._

_"Promise?"_

_Lydia let out a breath of sadness at the hope in his tone and caught his cheek in her hand. "I promise."_

The words rang sincere in Lydia's ears, pounded through her still-beating heart. Her hands were clenched tightly around the steering wheel, but she could still feel Vernon's smooth cheek cupped in her palm, could still feel him wrapped around her. Could still sense his presence in the passenger seat next to her.

Then she was punching the wheel with fists and forearms, red hair flying wildly around her. She was yelling in frustration and loss, straining up against the seatbelt as she flailed. It was a release, finally letting out all of her frustrations and anger, screaming to the world about how unfair her life had become. Lydia didn’t deserve this. 

Vernon hadn’t deserved this. 

She banged her head back against the headrest as she ceased her outburst, each breath heavy and controlled. There was a chill still in the air, but she didn’t open she eyes to check if Vernon was there.

“Can I just - I just need a little time. Please.” Her hands rested gently on the steering wheel and she just let herself breathe for a few moments. When she finally did look up, the passenger seat was empty and Lydia gave a sigh of relief, even as her heart panged. 

She got back on the road only long enough to get off on a street that intersected the highway. Distracted, Lydia had missed crossing over the rivers into Washington, finding herself at a restaurant overlooking the ocean. The rain was starting to come down, rippling the water in a mesmerizing pattern. 

Choosing a seat on the covered patio, Lydia pulled out her phone and turned it on. No one else was around, probably due to the faint sprays of moisture Lydia could feel when the wind picked up. There were decidedly fewer messages this time, just a _miss u_ from Allison and a _Call if you need ANYTHING_ from Stiles. But neither were the shoulder she needed right now.

Lydia dialed the number, one of the few she had memorized. It rang three times and she nearly sobbed when she heard the soft “ _Lydia?_ ” on the other end. 

“Yeah, mom, it’s me.” Lydia bit at her top lip to hold back the tears that were already threatening to fall.

There was static over the line, a heavy exhale right into the microphone. “ _Oh, sweetheart, it’s good to hear your voice._ ” 

“You, too. Um,” Lydia breathed out, closing her eyes and releasing a tear down each cheek. She inhaled slowly through her nose, and then spoke quickly, needing to say it before she chickened out. “Mom, there are some things that I need to tell you. A lot of it won’t make sense and I can’t explain everything, but I need you to listen because I really just need my mom right now.” Her voice was wavering, lips shaking as her tears began to stream down her cheeks.

“ _Oh, Lydia_ ,” her mother said on another sigh, the soft rustle giving away her mother dropping down onto the leather recliner in the sitting room. “ _I’m here. I’m listening. Whatever it is. . .”_ Her mother paused, inhaling sharply _. “Whatever it is, I’m here._ ”

Lydia ducked her head, looking down at the untouched pasta on her plate. “I’ve been keeping a lot of things from you. And I still can’t. . . I fell in love with a boy, mom.” Lydia finally just put it out there, stomach dropping. She heard her mother’s breath catch - they hadn’t talked about Lydia’s love life since she was in middle school. “His name was Vernon. He was the kindest, most sincere person I have ever known. I lo- I loved him with a-all my heart.” 

She could hear her mother holding her breath, having caught the tense of her words. Lydia was barely getting them out, voice breaking and chest beginning to heave with the echos of sobs. “And he loved me, too, he really did. But now he’s gone. He was killed, right in fr-. . . right in front of me. They’re going to say on the news that he-” Lydia took a deep breath, trying to gather the shreds of her composure. Shaking her head slightly, she continued. “They’re going to say that he’s missing again, just another runaway, but that’s not true. He’s dead, mom, he’s gone and I-” 

Unable to hold them back, Lydia let several sobs wrack through her body and her voice before continuing. She wiped at the tears as she finished. “I don’t know what to do now.”

Even to Lydia, her voice sounded tiny, young, like that of a child with a broken crayon. It felt like a dirty admission, a revelation of her own weaknesses. 

After a long pause, the two of them just breathing together over the line, her mother finally spoke, voice rough. “ _You’re gonna be okay. It doesn’t feel like it right now, but you will_.” Lydia opened her mouth to contradict her, but her mom cut her off. “ _Don’t ask me how I know that because you know how I know that_.” 

Lydia huffed out a soft, empty laugh, but closed her mouth, licking at her lips and closing her eyes. Listening, she realized she’d forgotten how soothing her mother’s voice could be when she let herself be soothed.

“ _You’ll keep going, every day, just keep on surviving because some days, that’s all you’ll be able to do. Survive. And you’ll do it not because you owe it to anyone, but because you deserve it, Lydia, because your life is still worth something._ ” Her mother’s voice had grown fierce, unwavering. Lydia allowed the words to settle within herself, truths she’d needed to hear.

“ _And I promise you, someday. . . someday you won’t just be surviving. You’ll be living again, even when it’s not easy_.”

The line crackled as Lydia exhaled, breathing deeply for several moments. Tears streamed down her cheeks and for once it felt like a release. “It’ll never be the same again,” she mused aloud, voice low.

“ _No_ ,” her mother agreed. “ _It won’t be. But do you remember what Nani told us when we lost your great-grandfather?_ ”

Lydia thought for a moment back to that day, to the surety in her great-grandmother’s tone, despite her age and her grief. “The ones we love never truly leave us, even in death,” she whispered.

“ _That’s right. He’s still with you, sweetheart. He always will be._ ”

Nodding her head slowly, Lydia just breathed for a moment before answering. “Yeah. . .  yeah - Mom, I have to go. Um, thank you so much, I really needed this, but right now I need to go.”

“ _Okay, honey. You do what you need to do. I love you._ ” The regret in her voice was almost audible and Lydia resolved to spend more time with her mother when she returned home.

“I love you, too, Mom.” She hung up with a sigh, hesitating for only a few seconds before dialing Allison.

When she hung up just a few moments later, Lydia stared at her phone, trying to put the pieces together. Everything Vernon had said checked out, Scott and Ms. Blake and even Cora.  Lydia returned her phone to her purse and left cash on the table next to her uneaten food. 

There was a path that led down to the beach and Lydia took it, letting the warm rain seep into her clothes, into her bones. She wrapped arms around herself as she walked through the wet sand, stopping when she reached the edge of the waves. 

“What’s going on?” Lydia asked, loud over the sound of the rain hitting the sea. 

“Beats me,” Vernon said from behind her. She whipped around, finding him standing just a few feet from her. He was dry, despite the rain sheeting down, and his voice was muffled, nearly drowned out by the noise.

It all started to fall together, clicking into place in Lydia’s mind, a truth spelled out that she’d been refusing to see. Vernon was _here_. Not a hallucination or delusion, not a figment of her imagination. It was really him, somehow.

“Why is this happening?” she shouted. “Why is any of this happening, Vernon? How- how are you here?”

“If I had any of those answers, Lydia, I promise I would tell you. But I don’t.” He shrugged, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. “All I know is that I’m here and that you can see me.” His voice and expression were sad, utterly distraught, but Lydia fought the urge to go to him, comfort him.

“It doesn’t make any _sense_. It’s not- not logical or scientifically even plausible. You shouldn’t be here, not really, not at all-” She cut off her rambling, biting her tongue to fight back the flood of reasons why this wasn’t happening. Because it was. 

The heavy rain immediately washed away all evidence of the tears that started to form in her eyes at the revelation. She looked him up and down, stepping closer and allowing herself to be filled with joy that he was actually _here_. 

His face softened into a smile as she entered his personal space, looking down at her with eyes that always make her knees weak. “You look good, Lyds.” 

Lydia smiled at that, shaking her head with a small laugh. “I look like a drenched cat,” she returned. 

Vernon smiled fondly down at her, eyes raking over her face and her hair and her sopping wet clothing. “You’re smiling. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you smile.” 

“It’s been a while since I’ve had a reason to smile,” she shot back, reminding herself of the situation. Vernon was still dead, still buried in the ground. Whatever this was, that hadn’t changed.

_If sometimes Lydia caught him watching her while she skated, it was because she was watching him, too. She was intrigued, to say the least, with her own interest. He was so vastly different from Jackson in every way she could think of and it threw her off to find herself drawn to him._

_She broke the figurative ice. Vernon brought her hot chocolate each time she left the rink shaking. He didn’t say anything, just walked over as she was getting her skates off, set it down and walked away. And she would pretend not to watch him go._

_Until the fifth time, when she got up and followed him, gripping the mug and wrapping her other arm around herself. “Hey, Boyd!” she called._

_He stopped and turned, sighing. “What?” he asked in a tone that said he was 500% done with everything._

_Lydia fell back on her heel.  “You could chill on the attitude, I just wanted to say thank you.”_

“ _For what? It’s not like it helps.” He gave a pointed look to her still-quivering shoulders._

_It was true in a way, she thought. Despite the warmth of the liquid, Lydia’s body would continue to tremble for at least twenty minutes each time and there was little she could do but wait it out. Pressing her tongue up against the back of her teeth, Lydia struggled to think of some way to explain._

“ _You’re right,” she conceded. “But you’re also wrong. So thank you.” And she turned around and walked back to her stuff._

_The next time it happened, he sat down next to her, holding the cup out until she grabbed it. “Do you wanna talk about it?”_

_Lydia’s eyes snapped up to his face, confused, but all she saw was sincerity and concern. She bit at the inside of her lips, then admitted with a shrug, “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”_

_He nodded but didn’t leave, sitting with her and occasionally bobbing his head to the music until she’d finished the hot chocolate. The he stood, grabbing it from the bench. “Drop your left heel more on the axel. The added boost isn’t worth the wobble until the triple.” And then he walked away, not even turning around to catch Lydia’s narrowed eyes, watching him curiously as the shaking slowly began to ebb._

_That was the only day she got back on the ice after her convulsions. He was right._

_Small talk wasn’t as torturous with him as it was with most people, but that was maybe because it never ended up being small talk. Casual would be a better description of their conversations over the next week. Lydia found herself hung up, stuck when it came to him. He never asked questions the way she expected and never gave meaningless answers._

_She’d been skating regularly for almost a month and a half before Jackson even contacted her. It was a text that just said_ thought about you today _, but it made her hands shake and her jaw clench. He always invaded her thoughts at the worst times, catching her off guard and breaking her down, and now he was shoving himself back in when she was finally starting to put her life back together._

_Skipping the lunch she had planned with her dad, Lydia grabbed her skates and went straight to the rink. She’d been running jumps for about half an hour when she noticed the song that was playing._

_Goodbye, my almost lover. Goodbye my hopeless dream. I’m trying not to think about you, can’t you just let me be?_

_Lydia slid to a stop on the ice, eyes growing wide even as her heart clenched. The song played on, each word like an assault on her composure and then Lydia was crouching down against the side of the rink, wrapping arms around herself and just letting the tears fall._

“ _Lydia?” she heard Vernon call from across the ice. She tucked her head down against her knees, ashamed to be losing it like this in front of him._

_So you're gone and I'm haunted, and I bet you are just fine. Did I make it that easy to walk right in and out of my life?_

“ _Hey,” he said softly as he approached, sliding down against the wall next to her. She heard the rustling of his jacket. “Can I-?”_

_Lydia released a few more tears as she nodded, hating herself for it, but wanting nothing more than to let him hold her right then. A warm, heavy arm laid across her shoulders, the other wrapping around her knees, large hand covering hers. Vernon just held her while she cried, rubbing thumbs back and forth until she’d calmed down._

_It was only two songs later that the tears finally stopped, but they stayed there together, and Lydia could feel the atmosphere shift between them. She lifted her head, meeting Vernon’s eyes. He didn’t say anything, but she could see it in his eyes that he was_ there _; they were on exactly the same page. She saw the intent in his eyes when he brought his hand up to her chin, but she lifted a finger to stop him. “Ah, I can’t,” she told him, shaking her head._

_Vernon immediately began to back off, pulling his arms away with an “I’m sorry, I thought-” but Lydia cut him off, grabbing his arm._

“No, just- not now. When _I kiss you,” she assured him. “It’s not going to be right after I was crying about my ex.”_

_Vernon nodded, an expression on his face that Lydia was already falling for, one that seemed to say he was hopeful but didn’t want to show it. She bit her lip, nodding back. He stood and she let him pull her to her feet._

_Skating away, Lydia smiled and it struck her that it was the first time in months she had smiled without meaning to._

Lydia looked straight up, eyes closed, and allowed the rain to wash over her face. Each droplet hit heavy and hard, pounding against her eyes and cheeks and lips. It felt good against her skin, refreshing and awakening, and Lydia thought she maybe finally got why Vernon always loved the rain. 

“You can’t feel it, can you?” she guessed, looking back at him.

Vernon seemed to sigh and looked up like she had. “I _remember_ what it feels like,” is all he said in answer.

Heart dropping at his words, Lydia nodded slowly and wrapped her arms around herself. When Vernon met her eyes again, she gave him a soft smile and then made her way back to her car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is. . . slightly less sad? I think?


	3. And I'd do anything to make you stay

Lydia rubbed the towel against her scalp, drying her hair as she walked out of the motel bathroom. Vernon was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching her. She ignored the way the bed didn’t dip beneath his weight, keeping her eyes on the bulge of his muscles beneath his sleeves, the flow of his skin from neck to jaw, the spread of his legs. 

Feeling the need rising beneath her skin, she settled back against the wall. It was too much. Lydia was fighting every fiber in her body that begged her to sink into his arms, wrap herself around him, let him envelop her. 

_It was nearly a month after they’d gotten together when they finally had sex. Vernon made her wait, put her off, kept it chaste. She would be his first and he wanted to make sure it_ meant _something._

_So it took her off guard when it finally happened. Lydia surprised Vernon on his birthday with a party - everyone he knew was there and it was small, but she could see on his face how much it meant to him to be surrounded by people who cared about him. He hadn’t told anyone about his birthday and Lydia knew without asking that it was because he feared no one would care._

_When they got up to Lydia’s bedroom that night, Vernon crowded her up against the door, lifting her up to meet his lips. His hands were warm and broad on her ass and she gave a surprised moan into his mouth even as her legs wrapped around his waist. He ground his hips against hers and she dragged her nails across his shoulders at the feeling of him against her, hard and ready._

_Lydia pulled back panting. "Wait. Are you- I just want to make sure you're okay with this."_

_Vernon quirked an eyebrow, a smirk playing across his reddened lips. "I'm okay with it," he answered with a laugh, ducking forward to kiss her neck, softly grinding against her._

_"Okay, but," she started, grabbing his face and pulling it so she could look him in the eye. "Are you really sure? I need you to be sure." Her voice was growing frantic._

_Pushing closer, Vernon dragged one hand up the side of her body until he was cupping her jaw. "Lydia, I'm sure. I want this. With you."_

_And Lydia couldn't stop the grin that spread across her face, the soaring feeling within her heart. She let her hands slide down the contours of Vernon's chest, fingers curling with desire. "_ Finally _."_

_They left a trail of clothes to the bed, falling onto the covers as they drew the breath from each other’s lungs. Lydia climbed fully on top of Vernon, running her hands over every inch of his torso. His skin felt like it was on fire, the warmth radiating out through her, setting her body aflame._

_It was so profoundly different from Jackson that Lydia almost got whiplash. Everything about Vernon and her relationship with him was warmth and softness, full of comfort and the high of equal forces pushing and challenging. With Jackson it was stark, sharp edges and biting personality that always left her with a chill in her bones._

_Lydia lowered down, nails digging into Vernon’s skin at the feel of him inside her. They both gasped as she rolled her hips, leaning down over Vernon’s body to capture his lips._

“Lydia? What’s wrong?” Vernon’s voice was concerned as he stood and started toward her.

She held up a finger to stop him, her other hand over her chest. “No, just- I need a moment.” He nodded, letting his arms fall to his sides. Looking him up and down, Lydia decided it was best to just get it over with. She stepped forward, letting the towel drop behind her. 

“I’m gonna, um, try something,” she whispered, moving closer. She raised her hand slowly to Vernon’s face, hesitantly. Vernon’s eyes were on her, but she kept her own on her fingers, holding her breath as they finally met Vernon’s cheek.

Lydia jerked her hand back, flinching and stepping back. Vernon was _cold_. It wasn’t solid or corporeal, just a freezing barrier in midair. It sent a chill throughout her body and she squeezed her fist tight, meeting his wide eyes.

“Did you feel that?” she asked, watching Vernon reach his hand up to touch his cheek.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so.” 

She nodded, not really sure what that meant, but still unable to shake the ice in her bones. “Sleep. I think- sleep, yeah.” 

Making her way around him, she fell straight into her nightly routine, stripping the bed and replacing the covers and pillows with Vernon’s. He watched her, leaning up against the bathroom doorway. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask about that,” he commented suddenly as she was stripping out of her robe and reaching for one of Vernon’s shirts. 

“Hmm?”

Smirking, he asked, “Did you break into my house?”

Lydia blushed, squeezing her hand around the hem of the shirt. “I might have.” 

Vernon grinned, looking her up and down. “Looks good on you.”

 _Looked better on you_ , Lydia thought, biting at the inside of her cheek. She turned off the light and climbed into the bed, wrapping the comforter securely around herself. Her body shivered, but she hoped Vernon didn’t notice. 

Then Vernon started to hum.

And it took her back instantly to countless nights wrapped up in bed, him curled around her after sex or just after a long day. Vernon would hum her to sleep while tracing circles along the skin over her diaphragm and Lydia would ask herself how she ever came to deserve someone like him.

She closed her eyes and listened, releasing a few tears into the pillow as she drifted off. Her dreams were fuzzy, something playing just at the edges as if trying to get in. It was familiar somehow, the sensation of some foreign force trying to break into her mind - and Lydia woke with a gasp.

“Vernon!” she called, crawling out of the bed to reach blindly for her phone. He appeared across the room, arms crossed and eyebrows raised in question as Lydia hit the lights and grabbed her phone. “I have an idea,” she told him, grinning as she dialed.

“ _Lydia? Are you okay? Where are you?_ ”

Lydia blinked, trying to gather her thoughts and remember why she’d called in the first place. “Yeah, Stiles, it’s me. I, um, I need you to do something for me, okay?” she asked, ignoring his questions. She kept going before he could respond. “I need you to ask Peter something.”

She caught Vernon’s expression, first of anger, then of concern, but she just held up a finger when he started toward her. 

“ _What? Oh. Lydia, he took off almost a week ago, no one’s heard from him. Though whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing has yet to be revealed_ ,” Stiles rambled.

She took a moment to process. “Wait, he’s gone?

“ _Yeah, he just left town after everything happened, we think he might’ve followed Derek and Cora but we’re not sure. And to be honest we’re not really investigating._ ” Stiles’ voice drifted into a sigh at the end of his words, giving Lydia the impression that things had only gotten worse since she’d left.

“Oh. Well, do you have any way to get in contact with him?” Lydia chewed at the inside of her lip, foot tapping on the carpet. 

“ _No,” he started slowly, “I’m gonna guess the dude isn’t listed. And if he is around, we’re not going to find him with the Hales gone. It’s just the McCall pack and - and the twins_ ,” he admitted, voice growing quiet. 

Lydia fought off the memories of Aiden’s arms trapping her, of Ethan holding Derek’s claws out, instead saying, “Yeah, Allison mentioned that Scott was an alpha now.”

Stiles snorted. “ _No, she told me that_ you _asked_ her _about that. And about Ms. Blake. We’ve spent the last two weeks worried that you took off because you had some vision that we were all gonna die, and now, honestly, we’re pretty positive that’s the case._ ” He laughed, but even he seemed unsure about whether or not he was actually joking.

“I’m not psychic,” she retorted, ignoring Vernon’s smirk. 

“ _Yeah, well, I think we can at least agree that you’re s-_ ”

“Something, I know,” she finished quickly, suddenly getting a better idea than going after Peter herself. Vernon’s eyes flashed and he was giving her a very knowing look, the one that said she was in trouble. “Thanks, Stiles, I gotta go, bye!” She hung up over his “ _Wait, Lydia-_ ”

She held up a finger before Vernon could start in. “Sweetheart, I know what you’re thinking-”

“Do you?” 

“I’ve done it before! Why couldn’t I do it again? You said to look at the patterns, Vernon, and I’m looking-”

“And what if it doesn’t work? Where does that leave us then?” His voice rose, but not enough to mask the quiver in his words.

Lydia knew that expression, in which his mouth pressed into a thin line, his clenched jaw and furrowed eyebrows trying to hide the excitement in the flare of his nose. It was the same look he got before they went into the vault after Erica, before the fight at the abandoned mall, and even the same one he wore when Lydia said _next to you_ \- the look that said he was hopeful but didn’t dare allow himself to believe it.

She fell back on her heels, swallowing the tears that burned in her eyes. “I _have_ to try. I can’t - I just have to try.”

Vernon seemed to inhale deeply, eyes darting all over her face. Then he sighed, arms twitching as if he wanted to reach for her. “Okay,” he said nodding. Lydia sighed in relief, grin spreading across her face. “My question still stands.” 

Biting at the side of her lip, Lydia shrugged. “I don’t have an answer.”

That seemed to be good enough for him, because he just nodded again. Lydia packed up the room and they went out to the car. She shivered in the cool northern air and it made her wish Vernon could wrap his arms around her again.

_She never made the conscious decision to go, she just ended up there. It wasn’t like the blackouts, she just didn’t have any justification for why she decided to grab her ice skates and go to the rink. Jackson had left for London that morning, laying a kiss to her lips and saying he wouldn’t forget her._

_But when he turned around at the gate, Lydia could see that he already had._

_So she grabbed her rarely-worn ice skates and paid the guy at the front desk - he was vaguely familiar but she barely glanced at his face before taking to the ice. There were a couple of other skaters, but Lydia weaved around them easily, all her years of training coming back instantly. She remembered that she’d been here recently, with Allison and Stiles and Scott, but most of that evening was a blur and what she could remember, she didn’t want to._

_She glided across the ice, following the path of a routine she thought she’d forgotten. Music played over the loudspeakers and she matched herself to the beat. Lydia let her muscles guide her, getting lost in the feeling of the movement, the flow._

_Nearly an hour later she slipped on a spin and fell. That was when she realized she was shivering, entire body wracked with trembles. She hadn’t brought a jacket, hadn’t thought enough about where she was going when she left the house. Standing slowly and wrapping her arms around herself, Lydia moved off the ice rink, sitting on one of the benches. She rubbed at her arms, trying to still the tremors to no avail. A chill had settled into her body that seemed to be spreading from the inside out._

_The cold feeling didn’t go away after she left the rink, and she would find herself being overcome by the trembling suddenly throughout each day. She wore warmer clothing, ate hot food, stayed out of the cold, but nothing worked._

_It took her nearly two weeks to go back to the ice rink after that. She made sure to wear her warmest sweater, a thick turtleneck that her mother had bought for her. The rink was busier than the last time, but Lydia was still able to work off some of the tension she felt on the ice. She pushed herself, running through her last competitive routine, doing what jumps she still could, beginning to work back up to the ones she couldn’t._

_It became her daily routine. She spent hours at the rink, attempting jumps she hadn’t tried in years and getting a thrill when she pulled them off. Lydia remembered a time when pulling off the next combination was the biggest worry in her life and she didn’t know when she’d lost that simplicity._

_Skating cleared her head. Skating helped her remember the person she was before the divorce. Every hour spent at the rink was like another stroke of an eraser, working away the mask she’d been wearing since meeting Jackson; the one that said she had to be perfect, she couldn’t show weakness, that status was more important than anything else._

_Sometimes she started to shake at the rink. At first she tried to ignore it and keep skating, but it always ended in a wonderful new bruise, so she learned to head off the ice when it started. She was frustrated more than usual that day, having been so close to nailing her double toe loop again. She moved onto the benches, wrapping her arms around herself to wait for the shivers to pass._

Clunk _._

_Lydia started and glanced over to the noise to find a thermal paper cup sitting next to her on the bench, releasing a tantalizingly sweet scent. Looking up, she saw the back of the guy from the front desk walking away._

“ _Hey!” she called out. He stopped and turned around, giving her a questioning look.  “What is this?” she asked sharply, indicating the cup._

“ _It’s hot chocolate,” he replied, shoving his hands further into his jacket pockets. He had a large frame, tall and broad-shouldered, cocoa-colored skin covered from the neck down in a light jacket and pair of jeans. His face was still familiar to her, more so than just seeing him around school._

_Her eyes narrowed. “Why is there hot chocolate?”_

_Shrugging, he said, “You looked cold.”_

_Lydia was taken aback by the obviousness in his tone. She didn’t trust it, even as her shoulders still shook. “So you made me hot chocolate? For free?”_

_The guy raised his eyebrows at her. “It’s hot chocolate,” he responded, as if he didn’t understand her question. Then he rolled his eyes. “I didn’t do anything to it, just drink it.” At that, he began to turn around to leave._

“ _Wait!” She’d finally placed him. “You’re a - you’re with Derek, aren’t you?” Pursing his lips, he nodded once. “It’s…um.” She tilted her head, trying to remember what Allison had told her before leaving. “Boyd, right?”_

“ _Yeah.”_

_Lydia nodded as he turned to go, reaching for the hot chocolate. “Thanks, Boyd.” She took a sip and felt the warmth rush down her chest, the liquid sweet and perfect on her tongue._

“Beacon Hills?” Vernon asked, appearing in the passenger seat as she got in the car.

Lydia shook her head. “No. I need to go to New Orleans.”

He rounded on her, expression saying more than words could.

Lydia sighed, starting the car. “Peter called me immune. That means whatever I am, whatever is causing all of this,” she started, waving her hand to encompass their everything. “It didn’t come from the bite. It came from _me_.”

“Okay. But why New Orleans? I know geography isn’t your favorite, darlin’, but you do know it’s on the other side of the country, right?”

Rolling her eyes, she glanced over at him. “I have an aunt.”

“An aunt?” he repeated. 

“Well, great-aunt.” Lydia pursed her lips - Aunt Eppy made her uneasy. “She’s basically the family kook - lives alone, talks gibberish and nonsense.”

“And you’re starting to wonder if maybe it isn’t all nonsense after all?” Vernon guessed. 

“Yeah. I need to talk to her.”

“So call her.” 

Lydia snorted at his tone, forgetting how much she’d missed it. “She doesn’t have a phone. Or electricity. I haven’t actually seen her since I was a little kid”

Vernon raised his eyebrows at that, opening his mouth, but closing it again before saying, “Okay. Road trip it is. Can’t say I’ll mind the view.” He gave her a very obvious once-over, smirking.

Lydia blushed, a smile creeping onto her lips. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

“And you’re keeping your eyes on the road.” 

She scoffed, laughing, but started the music and pulled the car out of the lot - keeping her eyes on the road.

_When the blood runs warm with old red wine, I miss the life that I left behind. When I hear the sound of the blackbird’s cry, I know I left in the knick of time_

“So you like the playlist?” he asked smugly. She bit back a smile, but didn’t respond.

They started heading west, passing again over the Cascade Mountains. She made it to Boise the first day, pulling off to find a motel. It took them seven days to get to New Orleans- Lydia swears she could’ve made it in four, but Vernon nagged her until she stopped after about 5 or 6 hours of driving. “Vernon, I’m _fine_ , I can go at least another hour.” - “This is my caring face.” - “Ugh!” It became a game of his to try to get her to laugh or snap at him while she checked in or out of the motel - he’d make stupid jokes or say a string of mispronounced words or just start shouting. She did break a couple times, earning her strange looks from whoever was behind the desk.

Some days they talked, reminiscing, or discussing home, and others they bickered, matching each other quip for quip and biting back amused smiles. One day, driving through the Rockies between Green River and Denver, they just listened to the music. Vernon was fascinated by the scenery; he’d never been outside of California. He stared at the enormous slopes and peaks and valleys of the mountains and shrunk back in the chair as they passed through the endlessly flat fields of Oklahoma. 

Each night, Vernon would hum her to sleep. The tugging feeling within her dreams was getting stronger, as if something was trying to get _in_. She didn’t say anything to Vernon about it, but she was sure it was him. He was already worried about her because she was always _cold_. She wore extra layers of his clothing and turned up the heat, despite the fact  that she was driving south in the middle of June, but still the cold feeling settled in the center of her chest wouldn’t pass. 

There were a lot of things Lydia wasn’t saying to Vernon. Like how distant he felt even when they were deep in conversation. Or how catching his scent on his clothing or bedding made her feel closer to him than staring at his face in front of her. Or the way flashes of his death played through her mind, always reminding her that though she could see and talk to him, he was still gone. It was as if he was present, but not _here_. 

On the fourth day, as Lydia drove from Denver to the middle of Kansas, Vernon left to check on things in Beacon Hills. He was only gone for a few hours, but the car felt eerily empty, far too much like the first week after his death. She had to convince herself twice that it hadn’t all been in her head. And she ignored the fact that she had to turn off the heat and take off all her sweaters. 

He appeared suddenly, as she was pulling off the freeway. “They’re worried about you, ya know. They miss you,” he told her.

Taking a deep breath, she nodded. “I know. Any news?” 

Vernon snorted. “You could say that.” She raised her eyebrows in question. “Danny found out and won’t talk to anyone. There’s something new in town that keeps messing with everyone and Derek came back last night to find the dynamic duo throwing a party in his loft.”

“Well then.” Lydia tilted her head, processing all of that. “Wait, what do you mean ‘messing with everyone’?”

He laughed. “Well, thankfully no one’s gotten seriously hurt yet, but first, they did something to all of Allison’s arrows. They all started flying to the left; caught Isaac in the shoulder with one. Then Scott went deaf for two days and now Stiles can only speak in Russian.”

“Russian.”

“Yeah, you should see his face.” Vernon huffed another laugh as Lydia pulled the car to a stop in the motel parking lot. 

“Hmm.” Lydia grabbed her phone, opening up a text to Allison and typing one word, _kitsune_ , before hitting send. She reached to grab the sweater from the back seat, pulling it with her as she got out of the car and ignoring Vernon’s look.

When she stopped just inside the border of Texas, Lydia called her mother to ask for Aunt Eppy’s address. She resisted the urge to spill everything to her, to tell her why she was going and all that was going on back home. She kept the conversation short, saying only that she loved her and she would hopefully see her soon.

They went for a walk around the town, Lydia wrapped in way more clothing than normal for Texas in June, even at 1 in the morning. They didn’t talk, just listened to the night until Vernon started humming to her. 

“ _What song is that?” she asked one night, snuggling back into his body after sex. “The one you’re always humming?”_

_Vernon was mouthing at her neck, humming against her skin. “A lullaby. My mother used to sing it to us when we were kids.”_

_Lydia didn’t have to ask to know he meant his biological mother. He rarely talked about her, or his sister, but she rarely talked about her sister either, so she understood and didn’t push._

“ _It’s pretty,” she said, leaning into the way his tongue pressed against her pulse with a soft moan. “Do you know what it’s called?”_

_She felt him shake his head, pressing his forehead against her hairline. “I never asked,” he admitted, voice full of regret._

_And Lydia didn’t say it, but his words hit home. She reached up and twined her fingers with his, drawing his hand to her mouth and placing a small kiss. Then she began to hum the song with him, rubbing her thumb over his until he fell asleep._

The next day, Lydia tried to make it all the way to New Orleans, but Vernon put his foot down.

“Lyds, you’ve been on the road for seven hours, you need to rest.”

“I’m _fine._ We’re like two hours away, we can make it tonight,” she argued.

“Yeah, I’m sure Aunt Eppy would appreciate a guest at 2am. Go find a motel.” He crossed his arms, voice firm.

“There’s no reason to waste time when we’re this close, Vernon. She might have actual answers to all of it - what I am, why this is happening, how to bring you b-”

“Go find a motel, Lydia,” he cut her off. 

Lydia huffed, nostrils flaring. “Ugh! You’re so frustrating.” She turned up the music, ignoring him as he stared her down.

_Only know you’ve been high when you’re feeling low, only hate the road when you’re missing home._

She waited about another twenty minutes just to ease her own pride and let herself pretend he hadn’t won, then pulled off the freeway near Baton Rouge. He tried not to look smug. 

“Hey Lyds?” he called later that night as she was getting ready for bed in the bathroom. 

“Yeah?” She grabbed her bag and tossed it on her luggage as she walked back into the main room. Vernon was sitting in the chair by the small table.

“If your aunt really is just crazy, what are you going to do?” 

Lydia swallowed, falling back on her heels. “I’m not going to stop looking for a way to bring you back, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

“I know,” he replied. “I got that much. So what _are_ you going to do?” She didn’t answer, popping her lips out with a _smack_. “You’re gonna go looking for him, aren’t you? Even though you have no way of finding him.” 

“I can’t remember anything about that night. He’s the only one that knows, Vern-”

“Yeah, and he’s also the nutjob that tried to kill you, failed, then played you like a marionette so he could come back and be the same manipulative asshole he always was. I don’t want you anywhere near him and I definitely don’t want you to go looking for him. Especially not when I’m-” Vernon cut himself off, sighing, before adding quietly, “Especially not while I’m dead.” 

Looking down, Lydia took a deep breath. Her shoulders slumped with the weight of it all and she dropped onto the bed. They just sat there in silence for a long time, knowing that tomorrow was it for them. They’d been existing on a knife’s edge for too long and they were about to fall. If she didn’t find what she was looking for, if she had to spend another day not _knowing_. . . She was beyond done with being in the dark. Knowledge was where Lydia felt safe, it was her protection. 

When she finally looked up, Vernon was watching her with sad eyes. She opened her mouth, about to speak before he nodded and she let her mouth fall shut. She knew he’d bring it up again if things didn’t go well the next day, but she accepted the time he was giving her to do things her way.

\--

In her dream she was running, sprinting through the trees of the Preserve back in Beacon Hills. She looked behind her, trying to see what she was running from when she caught a sound through the trees in front of her. 

She wasn’t running _from_ something. She was chasing it. 

Smirking, Lydia went faster and faster, closing in on something she couldn’t quite _see._ She could _feel_ it though, and when she was close, she charged, wrapping her arms around it and waking with a start.

\--

Lydia felt herself slowing down as she weaved through the narrow streets of the city the next day and she ignored the way Vernon watched her. As much as she was anxious to find out the truth, she was equally afraid of just what she would find there.

Aunt Eppy’s house was just as eccentric as she remembered, if not as terrifying as it had seemed to her four-year-old eyes. There were lots of strange herbs and flowers growing in the small garden, dozens of wind chimes of odd shapes, and strange symbols covering the house and ground- some she recognized from the Argent and Hale bestiaries, but most were foreign to her. She parked on the street, taking a deep breath.

“Whatever happens darlin’,” Vernon spoke up from next to her, “we’ll handle it together, okay?”

Giving him a soft smile, Lydia nodded. “Together,” she repeated.

The front door to the house opened before Lydia even made it to the porch, revealing a tall woman with shock-red hair in a pair of jeans and a flowered top. Lydia took in the tattoos covering her arms and the numerous bracelets, necklaces and earrings shaped in the some of the same sigils that covered the house. 

“Quit your dilly-dallying and get in the house, m’dear. We’ve got a lot to cover,” the woman said. 

Lydia was stopped in her tracks, staring at the woman. “Aunt Eppy?” There was no way - she had to be in her sixties, but this woman looked no older than Lydia’s own mother.

“The very same, but please, call me Epona. Now c’mon. Son, don’t give me that look,” she scolded, her eyes shifted to Lydia’s left where Vernon stood. Lydia’s eyes grew wide - Aunt Eppy - Epona - couldn’t see him, could she? “All will be explained in time. Now!” she added when neither of them moved.

Lydia hurried into the house past her great-aunt, feeling Vernon following close behind her. The inside matched the outside in oddities, candles lining the small walkway and running all the way around the living room to the left. After closing the door, Epona ushered Lydia and Vernon to sit.

Before the woman even sat down, Lydia was asking, “How can you see him?” 

Epona smiled brightly at Lydia, crossing her legs as her jewelry jingled. “Because I am what you are, m’dear.” 

Lydia looked over to Vernon, who looked as confused as she was. “Which is?”

“Banshee, of course.” 

The word settled over the two of them slowly, Lydia falling back against the couch with a _thump_. 

“C’mon girl, they told me you were sharp. I see your aura - you’re far more experienced than most at your age. The voices, the dreams, the wailing- don’t tell me you haven’t put it all together yet.”

“Banshee,” Lydia said slowly, quietly, trying the word out on her tongue. “With the wailing and funeral marches and the horrible fashion sense?”

“So you’re not completely clueless,” Epona said with a smirk. She glanced over to Vernon, then turned back to Lydia with curious, piercing eyes. “You don’t know why he’s here, do you?” Lydia shook her head. “Do you know anything?”

Lydia bristled. “I know I drove a long way to get here and that you have information I need.” 

At that, she gave Lydia an amused smirk. “Is that so?” 

“I want to bring him back.” Her voice was firm, unwavering.

“He’s sitting right here,” Epona replied wryly, giving Vernon a smooth hand gesture.

“You know what I mean.”

Epona’s voice grew dark, and she tilted her head down to give Lydia a hard stare. “Then you must know it will come with a price - for both him and yourself.” Lydia pursed her lips, nodding. “You’ve already done it, so you know exactly what I’m talking about, don’t you?”

Vernon looked over to her quickly, and Lydia cursed her lack of a poker face. “What is she talking about?” When she didn’t answer, he turned to face her, voice lowering but his concern growing. “Lyds? What is she talking about?”

She didn’t answer his questions, instead turning to Epona. “I’m losing myself, aren’t I?” 

Her aunt sighed deeply, crossing her legs. “The banshee in us grows stronger with each use of her power. Her goal is simply to do her job; the banshee is the shepherd of death, sister to the reaper which brings it. We guide those souls who cannot or will not pass through, our scream acting as a lamp of sorts. Our job is to guide them, to show them the way. If the souls have lingered, have attached themselves to a banshee, we can, occasionally, reverse the process. Show them the way back, but it is a gift that must be used sparingly and _carefully_.

“Death is a banshee’s friend. It wants to work with us. However, despite our close relationship with the mortal end, it is very dangerous to tamper with it. For most, humans and shifters alike, it just leaves a mark, a darkness that surrounds the soul and torments the mind.” Epona paused, hesitating.

“But for us?”

“Best case scenario, he returns and you get to be with him.”

“But?” Vernon supplied.

Epona glanced over to him. “But even then, you’ll be altered. A little more disturbed, a little more haunted. Drawn ever closer to the power inside of you.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Lydia asked, trying to understand.

Giving a single nod, Epona looked back to her. “For a trained, powerful banshee, yes. For one that can harness and _control_ the power. But not for you. Not right now.”

Lydia pursed her lips. “What’s the worst case scenario?” 

“That depends on your definition,” Epona admitted with a sad smile. Lydia raised her eyebrows in question. “You could die, be dragged into the veil in its moment of instability. Or. . . she could take over, stripping you of your humanity.

Lydia let that sink in for barely a moment before she nearly screeched, “So you’re saying I could lose him either way?!”

“M’dear, you’ve already lost him,” her aunt reminded her in a kind voice. Lydia felt it like a slap to the face, mind replaying the moment in the loft so vividly that she almost missed Epona’s next words. “A _trained_ and experienced banshee can control it, can hold on to her power and her humanity. But all too often, a young woman goes in too far, too fast, and loses herself.”

Biting back the doubt that it hadn’t already happened, Lydia straightened her back, ignoring the worried look on Vernon’s face. “Noted. Now where do we start?” 

“No.” 

Lydia and Epona turned to Vernon, who was watching her angrily - it was an expression she’d seen on him more than once, but never had it been directed at her.

“I can’t believe you’re actually considering this, Lyds, but I’m not letting you go through with it. It’s too dangerous.” 

“Sweetheart-”

“No, it’s a wonder you’ve survived what’s already been done to you, you can’t risk this. It’s not worth it.” 

Lydia turned fully in her seat, meeting his bright eyes. He looked so close, so _real_. Slowly, Lydia reached out and laid her hand over where his fist rested on his knee. It was freezing, not quite solid and so completely out of sync with the warmth he radiated in life that Lydia felt bile rising in her throat, but she swallowed it back. “It _is_.”

Vernon just stared at her for a minute, looking for all the world like he disagreed. But then his nostrils flared and he nodded. She kept eye contact until she was sure he was on the same page

Epona jumped in, breaking the moment to answer Lydia’s question. “It must happen during the full moon. The dead do not linger for long. After the passing of one full moon cycle, those that remain will be dragged to the other side as the full moon sets.”

After a beat, Lydia nearly shouted, “You mean the next full moon? The one in _seven_ days?”

Tilting her head, Epona eyed her curiously. “I think it’s about time we did a little storytelling. You’ve obviously done this before and yet, you seem to know nothing about it. Why don’t you start from the beginning? Tell me everything.”

Lydia swallowed, wrapping Vernon’s hoodie tighter around herself. She almost never talked about any of this, not even with Vernon. Closing her eyes, she breathed in his scent and began to speak. “It all started when people started dying in Beacon Hills.” Lydia started from the beginning, with Scott and Derek and Peter.

Her aunt frowned as she talked about Peter and his manipulation and control, but smiled softly as she talked about the voices and dead bodies. Lydia felt like she spoke for hours and when she finished, her aunt nodded.

“Impressive. Infuriating,” she added, eyes growing dark. “But impressive.” Then she stood and clapped her hands together. “Alright, I think that’s enough history for one night. I’ll tell you what you need to know, but only if you promise me something first.”

Lydia narrowed her eyes, suspicious. “What do you want?”

“It’s simple enough. If you manage to bring him back, you return here and let me train you. You have more potential than I’ve ever seen and I want to help you reach it. We don’t have time to teach you what you need to know now, but if you succeed. . . _if_ ,”  Epona emphasized. Then she added in a dark voice, “Then I can teach you. And I can also show you how to send _him_ back, all on your own.” Epona met her eyes with her own, wide green ones. 

Her heart skipped a beat - Lydia didn’t have to ask to know she meant Peter. “What’s the catch?”

She smirked. “You’ll have to abide by the rules of the house. And you’ll have to come alone.”

Vernon gave a small noise of discontent, but Lydia thought of the possibilities, of what she could learn. And if it meant Vernon was alive again and that she might have the chance to get her revenge - Lydia just couldn’t pass that up.

“For how long?”

“I’ll have you home before the start of your senior year.”

“ _Two months?_ ” Vernon cut in for the first time since their argument. Lydia looked over to him, biting her lip.

“Sweetheart. . .” She met his eyes, willing him to be okay with this. When he finally nodded, face softening, she gave him a soft smile and had to resist the urge to reach out and take his hand. Then she turned back to Epona. “I’ll do it. Just tell me what I need to do.”

“The ritual is simple enough, but must be done very precisely. You’ll need to direct moonlight, best done using a mirror system. This sigil,” she said as she grabbed a pad of paper and drew a symbol, holding it up for Lydia to see, “must be drawn in a crushed vervain paste. And most importantly, you need a blood relative.”


	4. no light, no light

“What?” Lydia and Vernon asked at the same time, shocked tones identical.

Epona’s face fell, understanding immediately. She fell back against her seat. “Ah, but that is nature’s cruel joke, isn’t it? That those who are truly alone in the world are unable to return to it.”

“But, he’s an orphan,” Lydia whispered quietly, heart pounding. This couldn’t be happening to them, not after everything. “There has to be another way.”

“My dear,” Epona began, voice incredibly sad. “I promise you, if there was, I would not be alone.”

Lydia followed her gaze to a photo on the wall of a young ginger woman in a white dress gazing lovingly up to a man in a tux, eyes locked onto hers. They clung to each other, smiles bright and love almost tangible. Lydia looked back to her aunt and watched a single tear fall down her cheek.

“That’s enough for one day, I think,” Epona said, dragging her eyes from the wedding photo and standing. “Come, my dear, I’ll show you to the guest bedroom and then we can-.”

“Wait, so that’s it?” Lydia stood, arms crossed over her chest. “There’s nothing we can do? I’m just supposed to let it go, to lose him again?”

“Lyds-”

“No, Vernon!” She turned back to Epona, hair whipping around. “I won’t let it happen. I won’t go through that again. Tell me how to fix this.” She was shaking, tears threatening to fall.

Epona gave her an apologetic look, hands coming to rest on Lydia’s shoulders. She tried to shake them off, but the woman was stronger than she looked. “Lydia, if your Vernon was as alone as you claim, there is precious little time left for temper-tantrums. You need to accept this and appreciate the opportunity you are getting or you will _waste_ it.”

Lydia was panting, inhaling deep, angry breaths through her nose. She was about to start in arguing again when Vernon cut her off.

“What do you mean, if?”

Epona dropped her hands from Lydia’s shoulders, turning to face him. “It is. . . incredibly rare for someone to be without any living relatives. It happens, of course, but it is very rare.”

Shaking her head, Lydia sighed. She didn’t need to see Vernon’s face to know what his next words would be.

“I’m a- I _was_ a foster kid. My parents were both only children and my great-aunt on my dad’s side died without having kids. My dad died in the service when I was young and my mom. . .” Vernon’s words seemed to stick in his throat and he seemed to swallow. Lydia’s heart gave a painful _thump_. “My mom hung herself a month after my sister disappeared. . . There’s no one.”

Lydia wiped at the tear that fell down her cheek. She could see how much it hurt Vernon to say this, and not being able to comfort him was killing her. Adjusting his hoodie and wrapping it tighter, Lydia met his eyes and mouthed, _I love you._ He nodded and she knew he was also fighting the urge to be in her arms.

“Epona, I think-”

“No, hold on a minute.” Epona stepped closer to Vernon, nearly the same height as him as she met his eyes. “You have a sister.”

Vernon shook his head. “No, _had_. She went missing almost ten years ago. They found the bodies of three other girls right around the time she went missing. There’s - there’s no way. . .” he insisted, but Lydia could hear in his voice that he was beginning to doubt himself.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “What if I told you that you could know for sure?”

“I _do_ know-”

“Vernon,” Lydia cut him off, eyeing the grin that was spreading along her aunt’s face. “Listen to her.” His nostrils flared and his arms crossed over his chest impatiently, but he stayed silent.

Epona gave a small nod. “A blood relative is needed because no matter the estrangement, we are forever connected to those who share our bloodlines - even in death. We can use that connection, under the guidance of the keepers, to pull them back.”

“Keepers?” Lydia asked.

“You, my dear, are a Keeper of the Veil, as am I.” She was talking animatedly now, hands waving and eyes lit with excitement.  “Now Vernon, this connection goes both ways. Your connection with Lydia is strongest because of your emotions and because she is the banshee keeping you tethered here, but you are able to pull yourself to others you knew in life, are you not?”

Lydia watched the realization dawn in his eyes and he nodded.

“Good. If your sister really is still alive, you can find that connection, that spark, and you can pull yourself to her.”

Vernon’s shoulders rose and fell in a silent sigh. “Just like that?”

Epona nodded. “Just like that.”

His nostrils flared again and Vernon closed his eyes, bowing his head. Lydia could feel the tension rolling off of him, could see the anxiety in the squeeze of his eyes and the tilt of his head.

“It’ll probably feel foreign in a way that the sparks of your friends do not, but also familiar in a way that not even Lydia is,” Epona said softly, watching him with careful eyes. “And most likely it is buried very, very deep.”

Vernon nodded, lips pressing into a thin line and jaw clenching in concentration and growing frustration. Lydia fisted and unfisted her hands, rubbing her thumb over her knuckles. Several minutes passed as they waited.

But then Vernon huffed out a short breath and opened his eyes, shaking his head a little. Lydia’s stomach dropped, hope crushed for the second time in an hour. “I can’t find anything. Whatever it is you’re describing, it’s not there.”

And Lydia couldn’t stop the tears that started to fall then. That was it, there was no way to get him back. Once the full moon set, Lydia would have to say goodbye to Vernon for good and all of this would’ve been for nothing. It was just another cruel torture, prolonging the inevitable.

Her chest seemed to cave with held-back sobs, crushing itself from the inside. She could feel her hands shaking and her vision blurred and she thought she could hear her aunt say something, but she couldn’t make it out. Her head spun and she couldn’t _focus_ as images flooded her mind.

“Vernon!” she shouted, looking for him. He was there, but he was no longer standing. He was lying in a puddle of water on the ground, red staining his clothes. She was back in the loft, rushing towards him, yelling and crying. Dropping to her knees, she fell over him, gasping as the cold rushed over her, pushing, pulling, invading. She clung to it, letting it take her.

\--

Lydia blinked her eyes against the light that flooded in through the window. The room she was in was clearly in Epona’s house, eccentric and cluttered, but Epona was nowhere in sight. Just as she was pushing herself into a sitting position, Vernon stepped in around the door.

Her heart clenched as she remembered the last image she’d had of him, but then her eyebrows furrowed as she caught the expression on his face. Before she could ask, he spoke up.

“I found her.”

They were on the road within an hour, weaving through the city streets on their way to the expressway - headed to _Michigan_ of all places. Vernon hadn’t really said how he’d found Alicia or what he’d actually seen, but he’d been able to give them an address.

Lydia asked if Epona would join her, help her, but the woman’s face fell, shaking her head slowly.

“This home, this city. . . it’s all I have left of him. I promised him that I wouldn’t leave it, even if he had to leave me.” Epona wrapped her arms around Lydia and then handed her the things she would need; vervain paste, a copy of the sigil and written instructions. There was something else there, a small folded parchment, but Epona glanced over to Vernon and shook her head, her meaning clear. Lydia tucked it in her pocket

Then Lydia hit the road, Vernon in the passenger seat.

“ _You don’t have to, I can just take the bus,” Vernon told her, squeezing her fingers where they were intertwined with his at their sides._

“ _Vernon, I swear to God if I come over here tomorrow and you’ve gotten on the bus, I will withhold sex for a month.” She smiled sweetly up at him, knowing he was listening to her heartbeat._

_His eyes narrowed, but he smirked. “Now, I’m not doubting your dedication to the threat, darlin’, but I hope you realize that you’d be screwing yourself, too.”_

“ _Isn’t that the point?” she quipped._

_Vernon snorted, pulling her closer and ducking to mouth along her jaw. “Fair point. I’ll say I’ve got full faith that you’d be able to last that long,” he started, mumbling “if only because if I said I didn’t you’d take it as a challenge,” under his breath along her neck. She smiled. “But I have no intentions of testing it. I’ll be here.”_

_She met his lips, sucking briefly on his bottom lip - she didn’t want to go. “Good. Though, you know, you could always just stay over.”_

“ _Tempting. But Marilyn will be home tonight. Best not risk it.”_

_Lydia nodded, popping up onto her tiptoes to place a final goodbye kiss on his lips. She stepped away, holding on to his fingers as long as she could as she backed off the porch. “I’ll see you in the morning.”_

_She got there early, and when Vernon opened the front door, she grinned. This felt good, knowing she would see him every morning like this. He got into the car and leaned over to give her a kiss before buckling his seatbelt._

“ _Good morning, Lyds.”_

“ _Good morning sweetheart.”_

_She grabbed his hand, twining her fingers with his as they drove to their first day back at school._

They didn’t speak for the first several hours, both too caught up in their own thoughts about how the next week would go. Lydia had less time than that to get to Alicia in Northern Michigan, convince her to come to Beacon Hills and get back to Beacon Hills before the full moon. She didn’t even want to think about what she was going to have to do when she got there.

The Louisiana border was still in the rearview mirror when Vernon finally spoke up.

“Hey, uh, do you mind if I go check on Alicia?”

Lydia glanced over to see worry in his face. “Of course. Sorry, I know it must be a lot to take in. Go ahead, I’ll be fine.”

The left side of Vernon’s lips turned upwards in a half smile. “Thanks. I won’t be long.”

“Take your time. I love you,” she added, as casual as if he were just going to work or Derek’s – as casual as it used to be.

Vernon grinned. “I love you, too, Lyds.”

She looked back to the road – it made her uncomfortable to watch him appear and disappear so suddenly – and turned up the music.

_But the rain won't fall for the both of us, the sun won't shine on the both of us. Believe me when I say, that I wouldn't have it any other way._

It wasn’t long before Lydia remembered the note from Epona. She caught the next exit and pulled into a city - it started with a M, but Lydia didn’t pay it enough attention to remember it - and drove to a cafe that overlooked the Mississippi river. She ordered lunch and then pulled out the note, taking a deep breath before unfolding it.

_I don’t want to say this in front of Vernon because I want this decision to be yours, but you must know. I was not underestimating the risk of you doing this without training - your soul has touched death and it will have formed an affinity of sorts. Even the power of keeping him here is giving her more strength - I see the way you shiver, the chill that has set into your bones. If you open that portal, Lydia, the chances of you coming out of it intact are slim at best._

_I won’t try to stop you, because I know the decision I would make were I in your shoes. But I will implore that you carefully consider the consequences of this, for both yourself and for him, should he return only to find you decimated by the power that returned him to life._

_Good luck,_

_Epona_

Lydia read over the words twice before putting the letter down. Straightening her spine, she inhaled through her nose, hands wrapping over her knees. A heavy emptiness seemed to settle in her chest, pushing and spreading against her organs and her ribs. Breathing slowly around the sensation, Lydia did just what her great-aunt had asked - she thought carefully about what she was going to do.

_Death doesn’t happen to you, Lydia. It happens to everyone around you. To all the people left standing at your funeral, trying to figure out how they’re gonna live the rest of their lives now without you in it._

They would be devastated and they would be so angry with her, going into this knowing what could happen - what would happen. But they would move on. Her parents would have a hard time, losing another daughter, Allison would be losing her one close friend, Vernon would be alone-

 _No_. Lydia cut off that train of thought. She wasn’t going to go down that path because she knew where it led. She didn’t care. None of that mattered. If there was even a _slight_ chance that she could bring Vernon back and be with him, she was going to take it.

No matter how slight that chance may be.

Lydia finished her lunch and got back on the road. She turned the music up all the way, singing along to drown out her thoughts.

_Lately I been, I been losing sleep, dreaming about the things that we could be_

\--

She made it into Illinois before Vernon appeared.

“Please tell me I’m hallucinating and you haven’t actually been driving for nine hours,” Vernon said.

“Oh, has it been that long?” she replied, pulling her lips into her mouth to hide her smirk, but when she glanced over, he just tilted his head at her. “I stopped for lunch, if it helps.” It didn’t, judging by the unamused look on his face.

Sighing, Lydia hit the turn signal, moving over to the right lane. She _was_ ridiculously exhausted and even the Starbucks she’d grabbed about an hour ago wasn’t preventing her eyelids from feeling heavy. But it was worth it, if it meant they could get to Alicia sooner. Vernon just sighed when she said as much to him.

“How is she?” Lydia asked after she got settled into the motel room, crawling into the bed. Vernon was sitting across the room in one of the chairs. They never really spoke about it, but Lydia thought maybe he knew how hard it was for her, to be so close to him without being able to touch. Even from this distance, each glance at him panged; she ached just to wrap her arms around him.

He was staring off into space, but he caught her eye, then inhaled deeply through his nose. “It’s hard to explain. She’s. . . different. The people that took her. . .” Vernon trailed off, anger evident in the clenched jaw and fists. He closed his eyes, shaking his head as if trying to shake away a memory.

“Hey.” Lydia waited until he met her eyes to say, “We don’t have to talk about this if it’s too hard.”

Vernon shook his head. “It’s okay, it’s just - they did something to her, something that changed her. Made her harder, tougher. But it’s not like I can just ask, ya know?”

Lydia nodded. As hard as all of this was on her, it had to be so much harder on him. Unable to touch or feel, or interact with the world at all.

“What’s it like?” she asked without realizing it. He looked confused. “Being here,” she clarified.

For several moments, Lydia thought maybe he hadn’t heard, or was just ignoring the question. But then he looked up and met her eyes.

“You know the movie _Twister_?How at the end, they’re caught in a tornado and they attach themselves to the ground with those leather straps?” Lydia nodded slowly, memory calling up vague images of a film she hadn’t seen in years. “That’s what it’s like. I don’t feel _grounded_ ; it’s like I’m floating around caught in a whirlwind and trying to remember which way is up. Like the world is rushing by around me and I can’t grab hold.

“But, I do feel _tethered_. Attached. To you.”

“I’m gonna fix this,” she whispered. Every cell in her body was screaming at her to pull him into bed with her and kiss him to sleep, plaster herself along every inch of him she could reach. Reaching over to turn out the light, Lydia sunk down, laying her head against the pillow. His scent was starting to fade, just as it was on his clothes and comforter. Everything was slipping through her fingers and no amount of clinging tighter would keep her from losing it all.

Vernon started humming and Lydia was asleep within minutes.

\--

She was back in Beacon Hills, back in Vernon’s room. The comforter on his bed was ruffled, his books in a pile on the floor. Lydia was still wearing the oversize shirt of his that she’d worn to bed, and that’s when she realized she was dreaming.

“Lydia?”

Turning around, Vernon was there, standing at the doorway, wearing the same outfit he was always wearing now, the same one he’d died in.

“What are we doing here?” he asked, walking over, footsteps falling heavily and air shifting when he stopped in front of her. Lydia didn’t move or speak, staring at him. She hadn’t had a dream this vivid in a long time, not since-

“Is everything okay?” Vernon reached up, cupping her face, and Lydia jumped. He was so _warm_.

Lydia lunged forward, wrapping her arms around him and crashing their lips together, capturing Vernon’s huff of surprise. She moaned in relief - he was warm and soft and felt like home. It had been so long since she’d been able to touch and to feel and even though it wasn’t real, she wasn’t wasting this opportunity with words.

His arms came to rest around her, enveloping her and Lydia felt like she could cry with how good it felt. She let her hands drop, wrapping around his waist and tugging him back to the bed with her. She was pressing her tongue into his mouth, trying to feel every inch of him she could, as she pushed down the blue vest and began to slide her hands up underneath his shirt. She wanted to feel his _skin_ , to be as close to him as she could.

When her legs hit the mattress, Lydia pulled back from his mouth only long enough to tug off her shirt, heart clenching as she watched Vernon pull off his. His eyes were full of heat and need, roaming over her face and naked chest, all the way down to her feet and back up. She was staring at his broad chest, the smooth dark skin pulled across tight muscles and she just melted into him, leaning forward and pressing her forehead against him.

“You’re not a dream, are you?” she asked, fingers pulling at his belt and jeans. She looked up, meeting his eyes. The tugging feeling that had been occupying her dreams had vanished, replaced by a feeling of fulfillment. “I mean, _this_ is a dream. But you’re. . . you, right?”

“I think so, yeah,” he breathed out, chest already heaving.

Pushing his jeans down, Lydia met his lips again, slowing it down as she fell back onto the bed. He crawled over her, kicking off his jeans and running his hand down her arm and side, then over her hips to hitch her leg up around his waist. Lydia’s hands explored every inch of him like this was their first time, running over his chest and into his hair and down his back.

Vernon broke the kiss to mouth at her neck, laving over her skin, nipping and sucking and drawing noises out of Lydia’s mouth that made Vernon’s hands clench around her hips. Lydia could feel how hard he was, pressing against her thigh, so she reached down, running her hand along him over his boxers, gripping to feel him gasp against her throat. He retaliated by ducking down, closing his lips over her nipple and drawing it between his teeth, making her arch up and dig fingernails into his arm, squeezing tighter around his cock.

They removed their underwear unceremoniously and Lydia wrapped her arms tight around his neck, biting down on his bottom lip as he pressed into her. _This_. This was what she needed. Physical contact, to be connected to Vernon in an undeniable way, for him to invade her body the way he’s invaded her heart.

They took it slow, drawing it out as long as possible. He was so warm, chasing away the chill with every kiss and every thrust, setting her body on fire. He held her tight while she trembled with pleasure, whispering I love you’s into her ear. She opened her eyes, wanting to see the way his flashed when he climaxed, mouth falling open before he dropped his head against her shoulder.

Lydia shut her eyes, burying a smile in Vernon’s neck, and they just breathed for a few moments, hearts beating in tandem.

“I’ve missed this,” she whispered eventually. She waited a moment, but when Vernon didn’t answer, she opened her eyes.

Vernon wasn’t there. She was sitting on her bed at home, looking into the mirror across the room. Blood stained her clothes and mixed with the water dripping onto the carpet. He was gone, and she was alone _._

\--

Lydia woke up screaming.

“Lydia?” Vernon shouted from across the room. She opened her eyes, trying to adjust to the darkness, gasping and shoving herself away when she felt a freezing cold touch on her shoulder. Scrambling toward the light switch, she turned it on.

Vernon was kneeling on the bed, leaning back away from her, fear in his eyes.  “Lydia?”

“Vernon,” she breathed in relief. It was okay, he was here. It was just a dream.

She started to reach towards him, jerking away at the last second when she remembered. The dream had been _so real;_ the heat of him still lingered like a brand underneath her skin. But the ending. . . that _was_ real and Lydia needed to remember that.

“Are you. . . are you okay?” Vernon asked softly, looking lost and something else, something she couldn’t quite pinpoint.

Lydia fell back on her heels, wrapping her arms around herself and nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, sorry, I just, I had a nightmare.”

Vernon’s eyebrows lifted and he huffed out, and in the blink of an eye was standing next to the bed. “I mean, it might not be our best, but I didn’t think the sex was _that_ bad.”

Hurt. That was the other emotion in Vernon’s eyes. _Fuck_.

“Ah, Vernon, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean. Not that.” She stopped, dropping her head and staring at her knees. She told him how her dream had ended, biting back the last part; the part where Lydia knew what the difference was between the dream and the memory. The part where Lydia thought maybe that wasn’t a good sign at all.

At the end, she let her head fall into her hands and she just cried for a while, shed tears of anger and grief and helplessness. As amazing as her time with Vernon in the dream had been, it had done little more than remind her of all of the things she couldn’t have while she was awake.

She must have cried herself to sleep because she woke again a couple of hours later after a dreamless nap, curled in a ball in the middle of the mattress. Sitting up, she noted that Vernon wasn’t there. Confused, Lydia gathered up all of her things and checked out. She was frowning by the time she got to her car because he still hadn’t appeared, but when she clicked the lock, he was suddenly there in the passenger seat.

Sighing, Lydia put her stuff in the backseat and got in. He looked worn out. “Is everything okay?”

“Is anything okay?” he retorted. She bit the inside of her lip, waiting. Finally he met her eyes. “You were shivering in your sleep, but - but it wasn’t like I could do anything to make it _better_ , so I just left.”

Lydia took a long deep breath, swallowing down all of the awful emotions threatening to overwhelm her. “I’m going to fix this, okay?”

“At what cost?”

“Nothing more than it’s worth.”

_This one's for the lonely, the ones that seek and find, only to be let down time after time._

As she drove, her thoughts ate at her. Her mind kept flashing back to memories of their dream, of him wrapped around her, of their skin pressed together. She clenched her teeth, gripping the wheel and trying to stop herself from reaching over to him. It was driving her mad because as much as she _needed_ to feel him, the thought of touching him like this made her sick, made her shiver all on its own.

And worse, when she closed her eyes, all she could see was the lifeless image of her in the mirror, lacking all of the resolve and determination she had left Beacon Hills with.

The ride was silent, but not the peaceful sort of silent she usually felt around Vernon. No, this was tense and full of so many unsaid words, too many emotions and needs and not enough satisfaction.

Nearly two hours after they’d hit the road, Vernon finally spoke up. “I’m gonna go,” he stated cautiously, glancing over at her with questions in his eyes.

Lydia swallowed, popping her lips. “That’s. . . probably a good idea.” Vernon nodded. “Um, could you check on Allison?”

“You could always just call her. I’m sure she misses you.”

He was right, she knew, but she couldn’t do that right now. Couldn’t face her best friend until she had figured out what she was going to say, how she was going to explain all of this. She just pursed her lips and whispered, “Please.” He sighed, but nodded and then he was gone. Lydia took a deep breath.

_Two days after Lydia’s text from Jackson, she went back to the rink. Vernon was behind the counter as usual and gave her a confident smirk when she walked up to him, as if he’d been expecting her. He hadn’t, however, seemed to expect her to lean over the counter, fist her fingers in his shirt and drag him to her lips, if the quiet squeak was any indication._

_But then his hand came to cup her face and his jaw dropped open, allowing her in. She smiled into the kiss, flattening her hand on his chest, then running it up and around to the back of his neck. He was everything she hoped he’d be and more; he had a heat about him that seemed to radiate to her. She braced her arm on the ceramic, pressing closer until his hands slid down to fit around her waist and haul her up onto the counter._

_Lydia pulled back and grinned._ That _was a thing she could definitely get used to._

“ _Hey.”_

“ _Hey,” he said back, hands still wrapped around her hips. Lydia let her eyes roam over him, catching on the name sown into the ice-rink jacket he wore. She brought her hand to it, thumb rubbing over the stitching._

“ _Vernon,” she whispered. She glanced up, meeting his eyes underneath her lashes. “I kinda like you, Vernon.”_

_She watched as the smile spread across his face. “I kinda like you, too, Martin.”_

Lydia pulled off to stop for Starbucks when she was on the outskirts of Chicago. She’d been on the road for about four and a half hours and was still only about halfway there. Shaking her head, Lydia tried to chase away the drowsiness. She didn’t have time for this. The full moon was approaching quickly, just five days away.

Time seemed to drag as she got closer and closer, passing into Michigan and heading straight north along the coast until she cut east. Alicia lived in a town that barely registered on Lydia’s GPS and as she got closer, she began to struggle to think of just how she was going to convince this girl that her long-lost dead brother was still here and needed her in a ritual to bring him back to life. And in order to do so they would need to travel together over 2,000 miles across the country.

Lydia was screwed.

Her GPS told her that she was about a half an hour from Alicia’s house when she fell asleep at the wheel. It wasn’t for long, but she jerked awake to the feeling of her tires hitting the rumble strips - two lanes over from where she’d been. Her heart was pounding, but it was the middle of the night and luckily there were no other cars anywhere near her. The message was clear though - she needed sleep. It was too late to go to Alicia’s anyway.

Sighing, Lydia drove into the small town she was passing through - Cadillac - and looked until she found a motel whose front desk was still open. She was getting anxious, thinking about sleep and wondering if Vernon would come into her dreams again. Part of her wanted that more than anything, craved it, was already becoming addicted to it. But she also knew that it would only make this all more difficult, and she feared the ending, the sight of herself in that mirror, eyes looking as dead as Vernon’s.

When she got settled and Vernon still hadn’t come back, she decided to try something. Sitting on the bed, Lydia fisted Vernon’s blanket in her hands and closed her eyes, calling his name to the empty room. She felt a little ridiculous, but then she felt the cold rush through her chest and when she opened her eyes, he was standing there.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Everything’s fine, I was just about to go to bed.” When he didn’t respond, she added, “We’re about half an hour away.” Lydia decided it was best not to mention the minor incident on the freeway.

Vernon looked like he was about to scold her, but then just nodded, seeming hesitant. “Do you want me to go?”

Lydia drew back, confused. “Why would I want that?” He just raised his eyebrows at her, as if the answer were obvious. Lydia thought about the night before, and that morning, then sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m just. . . struggling with all of this.” Lydia dropped her head, staring at her fingers in her lap. “I know you are, too.”

“We’re gonna get through this, Lyds.”

She nodded, hair shifting over her back. “Please don’t ever think I don’t want you here. I’m just-”

“I know.”

Giving a half smile, she leaned forward to pat a spot on the edge of the bed. As he walked over, she asked, “How was Allison?”

“Honestly? She’s having a hard time. All of them are. She and Scott and Stiles, they did. . . something. I’m not sure what, but there’s a lot going on back in Beacon Hills.” He sighed heavily and Lydia tried to ignore how unsettling it was that the motion didn’t shift the bed at all.

“Is everyone okay? Is Stiles still speaking Russian?”

Vernon smirked, looking over to her. “No, unfortunately, because that was hilarious. And everyone is alive, but I definitely wouldn’t call them okay.”

Lydia bit at the inside of her cheek, processing that. She should really call Allison, ask her about everything that had happened since she left, but she was so too afraid of letting down her guard. She was worried that if she spoke to her best friend, she would spill everything - up to and including the part where this was essentially a suicide mission.

“Did you check on Alicia?” she hedged. Vernon just nodded and, seeing the way his eyes darkened, Lydia decided not to push the issue.

As she slid down under the covers, Vernon asked her, “Is it gonna happen again?”

“Probably,” she whispered into his pillow. “Do you want it to?”

Vernon snorted. “What I want and what’s best for our mental states might not be the same thing in this case.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” she grumbled under her breath. “Goodnight, Vernon.”

“Goodnight, darlin’.” Vernon started humming, but Lydia was out in under a minute.

\--

It was different than the first time. Lydia opened her eyes to find Vernon cuddled around her, one hand wrapped around her belly to hold her close. She was using the other as a pillow, twining her fingers with his.

“Mmmm, I like this,” she said, snuggling back against his body.

“I love you,” Vernon whispered against her neck, rubbing his nose against her pulse point.

“I love you, too.”

They spent the night just laying there, Lydia trying to keep her eyes open. Even in the dream, she felt herself growing drowsy, lulled by the feeling of Vernon, the sensation of his breath on her neck, his heart beating against her back. As she finally dozed off, she felt like there was something she was forgetting, but all of this felt so good, so she just pushed it down.

She was cold. Lydia opened her eyes,finding herself staring at her own reflection in the mirror. The ache of each beat of her heart in her chest was the only indication that she was actually alive - her eyes were lifeless, face colorless, clothes stained with blood. Vernon was gone and she was alone.

\--

Lydia woke up screaming.

This time she was able to calm herself down more quickly. She drew deep breaths through her nose, shaking her head when she saw Vernon move closer out of the corner of her eye.

“I’m okay, just gimme a second.” When she thought she’d gotten her heart rate back down to a near-normal pace, she looked up to meet Vernon’s gaze through the darkness.

“Same thing?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, voice soft.

Lydia shook her head. She glanced at the clock to see she’d actually gotten nearly six hours of sleep and it was already mid-morning. “Let’s go say hi to Alicia.”

If Lydia’s hands shook a little as she gathered her things, well at least Vernon didn’t say anything about it. She wasn’t going to admit how nervous she was - if she couldn’t convince Alicia that this was all real, then it was over. She’d come all this way for nothing.

Sooner than she realized, Lydia was driving up to the girl’s house - it was very small, set back in the middle of the woods. Her heart was racing, but she took a deep breath, smiled at Vernon, who whispered “I’m here,” then she turned off the car and got out.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (also just fyi, the songs I used for Vernon's playlist can be found [here](http://chasingshhadows.tumblr.com/private/65572806866/tumblr_mvidy00YOV1r4hira))


	5. I was disappearing in plain sight

Lydia walked up the steps to the door and knocked. There was a small silver car parked in the unpaved driveway, almost more rust than paint, so Lydia was pretty sure someone was home. It took long enough for her to doubt, but then there was shuffling behind the door for a couple of seconds. The door opened, stopped by the chain, revealing a tall young woman, dark skin and hair. She was gorgeous, the kind of classic-film lovely that Lydia would never achieve naturally, with wildly expressive, deep ochre eyes. Right now they were unmistakably suspicious.

“I don’t know you,” was all she said in greeting.

“I know. My name is Lydia Martin. Are you Alicia Boyd?”

The girl’s eyes grew wide and then the door was slammed in Lydia’s face. 

Lydia drew back, confused. “Well, that went about as well as expected.” She turned to where Vernon was standing on the steps behind her. “A little help?” 

Vernon shrugged. “I don’t know. I watched her for hours and I still feel like I know nothing about her.”

Lydia’s shoulders dropped. She turned to knock on the door again when it opened wide. Alicia stood there, pointing a pistol directly at Lydia’s face. 

Well, shit.

“How do you know that name?” Her voice was dark, dangerous. Lydia had no doubt that she would pull that trigger if she didn’t like Lydia’s answer.

Lydia held up her hands, palms forward. “I’m from Beacon Hills. I know your brother, Vernon, and he needs your help.” 

Alicia’s eyes flashed angrily. “My brother is dead.”

“I- how do you know that?” Forgetting herself a moment, Lydia turned back to Vernon, looking for answers, but he looked just as lost as she did. She looked back to Alicia, who was glancing around confused.

“ _They_ told me. Now you have 30 seconds to start explaining yourself or leave before I pull this trigger. Who are you? How did you find me?”

Lydia took a deep breath, trying to ignore the way her heart was pounding in her throat. “My name is Lydia Martin and I’m from Beacon Hills,” she repeated. “I met Vernon at the ice rink where he works a year ago. I was there when he died three weeks ago-”

“Stop lying!” Alicia shouted then and Lydia froze. The girl’s nostrils were flared in anger, staring Lydia down with with mistrust in her eyes. “Vernon died 10 years ago. He was murdered by the people that took me.” She was shaking and Lydia was afraid she was going to accidentally set the gun off. “You need to leave and you need to leave right now.”

“Lyds, come on, it’s not worth it,” Vernon said from behind her, but she ignored him.

“I can’t.” 

Alicia took another step forward, eyes dark. “Why not?” 

Lydia stepped forward, now less than a foot from the barrel of the gun, pieces clicking into place. “Because you and I both know that what they told you isn’t true.”

“Why should I trust you?” her voice was hard, but Lydia noticed the gun began to drop every so slightly.

So Lydia stepped forward once more and closed her eyes. Then she began to hum. 

It wasn’t as smooth as Vernon, but the reaction was instantaneous. The gun dropped to Alicia’s side and she gasped, eyes growing wide. Lydia continued for a couple more notes before ceasing, meeting Alicia’s eye and waiting. She felt Vernon’s tension at her side, but didn’t dare chance a glance over. 

After a couple of minutes, Alicia wiped a tear from her eye and stepped back. “I think you should come inside.”

Lydia smiled and breathed a sigh of relief, but the tension didn’t leave her shoulders. That wasn’t even the hard part; Lydia just hoped the gun wasn’t within reach when she had to tell the teen that her brother was a werewolf who was killed and needed her help to come back to life. 

Thankfully Alicia left the gun by the door.

The inside of the house was the opposite of Epona’s - there was nothing on the walls, no decorations of any kind. It was minimalist to the extreme. Lydia also noticed that there was only one bedroom, which had Lydia wondering if Alicia lived alone. She was a year younger than herself and Vernon, just barely 16. Lydia was growing more and more curious about exactly what had happened to her.

She watched the way Alicia moved, the way she held herself. It reminded her a bit of Allison after she came back from France - rigid, practiced movements indicative of heavy training. If possible, it was even more evident in Alicia, and a tragic picture was beginning to form in Lydia’s mind.

Vernon seemed to know his way around, heading straight for the living room at the end of the small hallway. He was watching Alicia and Lydia, eyes flicking between them anxiously, but it wasn’t like Lydia could say anything to reassure him without looking like a nutjob in front of Alicia.

“You never answered my question,” Alicia started, sitting down in the worn out chair across from the couch. 

Lydia took a seat, not needing to ask which question, but she wasn’t sure if she should exactly lead with _your dead brother told me where to find you_. “It’s a really long story.” 

“Fair enough.” Alicia nodded, eyes glazing over a second. “How about you start with why Vernon would need my help if he’s dead?” 

_That’s not any better_ , Lydia thought to herself. But she was going to have to explain all of this eventually. Alicia was going to kick her out again, she was sure of it. Taking a deep breath, she started, falling back into a matter-of-fact persona that she was much more comfortable with. “You’re going to think I’m crazy. And you’re going to want to throw me out. But I just need you to listen until I’m done and then I promise it will all make sense.”

“Trust me, dear, there is literally nothing you can say that’ll make you sound crazy,” Alicia replied, leaning back in her chair. The words panged at some long forgotten memory of Lydia’s, but she continued, hoping it was true.

“Vernon didn’t just die last month - he was murdered. He got caught up in a war that had nothing to do with him and he paid the ultimate price.” Alicia looked confused and Lydia knew she was skirting around the issue. “It wasn’t fair.”

“Who killed him?” Alicia asked, eyeing Lydia carefully.

Lydia chewed on the inside of her lip for a moment before answering vaguely. “A group of people on a power trip.”

Vernon huffed next to her. “Lydia, c’mon, you’re gonna have to just say it.”

“What were their names?” 

Lydia closed her eyes, swallowing down her hatred, before looking up and answering. “Kali, Aiden and Ethan. They’re-”

Alicia’s eyes grew wide. “The _Alpha pack_?”

Lydia drew back, tilting her head curiously at Alicia and narrowing her eyes. “How do you know that?” 

“What the hell was Vernon doing tangling with the Alpha pack?” She paused, then gasped out, “Oh my god, did they bite him?”

“No, he was already- what do you know about the Alpha pack?” 

“I know to stay as far away from them as I possibly - what do you mean ‘already’? He was already a werewolf?” Alicia was leaned all the way forward in her seat, chest heaving. 

Lydia paused, popping her lips. “I think maybe we should start over.” Alicia nodded. Lydia paused, adjusting herself to the knowledge that Alicia already knew about the supernatural. Vernon was frozen next to her, staring at Alicia. “Yes, Vernon was already a werewolf. He took the bite from Derek Hale about a year and a half ago.”

“Derek’s an alpha? I thought Laura got it after the fire?”

“She did, but then, well.” Lydia told Alicia everything. From Scott to Peter to Gerard to the Alpha pack and everything in between. Alicia already seemed to know a lot of it, like the fact that there was a kanima in town, but it was obviously very distorted information from unreliable sources. 

“You and Vernon were together, weren’t you?” Alicia asked about halfway through the story, when Lydia was talking about Vernon and Erica leaving. 

“We got together that summer, and we’ve been together since.” She looked down at her hands, suddenly feeling judged. “He makes me happy.”

Alicia just nodded and Lydia continued with the story. She left out most of her own part in things - about being bitten by Peter and hearing the voices. She stopped after telling Alicia how Vernon  died, letting the silence fill the room for a bit. 

“That’s. . .” Alicia finally began. “A lot. If I’d known he was alive. . .” She trailed off, gritting her teeth. Lydia watched her unclench her fists and shake her head a little before meeting her eyes. “So why are you here? What did you mean that Vernon needed my help?”

Lydia felt Vernon shift closer, watching the two girls intently. This was it.

She inhaled slowly, then led with, “Have you ever heard of banshees?”

Alicia’s mouth dropped open, eyes wider than Lydia thought possible. She didn’t speak for the longest time, but Lydia could see it all clicking into place. She knew exactly why Lydia was here. 

Several minutes passed, none of them speaking. Then Alicia finally pulled her mouth shut, eyes darting all over Lydia. “Are you?” Lydia nodded. “Can you really do it?” It was barely a whisper, a breath of hope on the air.

“Yes,” Lydia replied, voice more confident than she would ever really be. She could feel Vernon’s doubt, but she didn’t glance over. “But only if you’ll come with me.”

Alicia seemed to deflate. “Back to California. To Beacon Hills.” The words seemed to place the weight of the world on her shoulders and Lydia was all the more curious about everything that Alicia had been through.

“If there was any other way. . .” Lydia trailed off. “But there’s not. In order to perform the ritual, we have to be with his body on the full moon.”

“So we have five days to get back to California?” 

Lydia nodded. She could see that Alicia had already made her decision as she sat there breathing - she was just weighing the consequences. 

Vernon made a noise as if to clear his throat. _Oh yeah._

“There’s something else you should know.” Alicia met her eyes. “Vernon, he’s. . . He’s still here. With me.” 

Alicia glanced around for a moment, as if looking for him, before turning back to Lydia. “Like, true-love-he’ll-forever-be-in-my-heart here, or like, Casper-the-friendly-ghost here?”

Lydia smirked and Vernon snorted. “The latter. But only myself and other banshees can see him. He can hear and see you. That’s how I found you.” 

“Where is he?” Lydia gestured to her left. “Vernon?”

“Tell her I love her. And that she’s gorgeous.” Lydia repeated his words. “Also tell her that she’s got quite a story to tell.”

Alicia ducked her head and nodded. “Yeah.” She sighed, looking back at Lydia. There were tears in her eyes, but she didn’t make an attempt to wipe them. “Let me, um, lemme pack. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”

It said a lot about how accustomed Lydia was to Allison that she didn’t flinch when Alicia bought out what seemed to be an entire arsenal of guns, crossbows, knives and ammo. She glanced over to Vernon, but apparently this wasn’t something he’d seen before either.

“Are you a hunter?” Lydia asked as Alicia was tucking all of the weapons into her suitcase. There was already a duffle on the floor full of clothes.

The girl glanced up, smirking. “Not exactly.”

She didn’t offer anything more and Lydia didn’t push it.

When they first went outside, Alicia was carrying the duffle because Lydia was stupid enough to offer to carry the weapons. “Oh my god, why does one person need to own so many guns?” she huffed out, gripping it tighter and hoisting it up onto her hip as they went down the stairs.

Alicia turned back with one eyebrow raised. “That’s just my travel pack.” 

Of course it was.

Then Alicia immediately started heading towards her own car, which, no. “Hey, maybe we should take the car that isn’t about to fall apart,” she suggested, already dragging the weapons in that direction. 

“Or we could take the one that’s coated in mountain ash.”

Lydia tilted her head, peering at the little car. Huh. “Fair point, but mine’s still faster.”

Alicia seemed to sigh heavily, thoroughly unimpressed. There was a bit of a standoff, both young women standing next to their cars with their hands on their hips and, despite refusing to back down, it made Lydia like Alicia - she always enjoyed a challenge. 

Finally Alicia slumped. “Does it have air conditioning?”

Lydia scoffed. “Please.” 

Alicia rolled her eyes and Lydia grinned, pulling out her keys to pop open the trunk. She hauled the weapons in next to Vernon’s bedding and her own bag, then closed the trunk. Alicia was digging out some things from her car and Lydia didn’t even want to know. She climbed into the front seat to wait, confused when she noticed Vernon in the back. He’d been eerily quiet, now that she thought of it.

“Whatcha doing back there?” Vernon gave her a deadpan look. _Oh yeah_. “This is gonna be weird.”

“Because spending the last two weeks talking to your dead werewolf boyfriend has been so normal.”

“Actually. . .” Lydia pondered, cutting off when Alicia opened the back door and tossed her bag right where Vernon was. Lydia flinched, looking away as he flicked over to the other side. Alicia got in the passenger seat and took in her pursed lips and tense shoulders.

“He was sitting right there, huh?” She was quick, Lydia had to give her that.

She nodded once, then started the car. After setting the GPS for home, they pulled out of the little town. 

“You have your driver’s license, right?” Lydia asked.

“Just got it a month ago, but I’ve been driving for years.”

 _Well, that’s a terrifying thought._ “Oh, good.”

_I wander through fiction to look for the truth, buried beneath all the lies. And I stood at a distance to feel who you are, hiding myself in your eyes_

\--

Alicia didn’t like the music. She was always too hot and turning up the A/C, despite Lydia’s shivering. She had her feet up on the dashboard _constantly_ while Lydia drove and drove too fast when she was behind the wheel.

But she was also funny. More verbose than Vernon, but they were similar in other ways that Lydia was drawn to. She couldn’t help but like the girl, which was surprising because Lydia never liked other girls. Allison was the exception that proved the rule.

It was really awkward adjusting to having someone around that couldn’t hear or even see Vernon. She found herself getting frustrated, playing telephone between Alicia and Vernon. Alicia still wasn’t letting anything go about what had happened to her or why she’d become a 16-year-old weapons expert, but the siblings still had a million questions for one another that all had to go through Lydia. 

The first day, they kept it really light. 

“Is blue still your favorite color?”

“I was never gonna be a pink girl. Lydia says you work at the ice rink?”

“For three years now. How is it you have a car when I don’t?”

“Superior genes. You still awful at chess?”

Most of the day passed that way. It was rubbing Lydia the wrong way, but not because she felt left out. She felt like she was intruding. Vernon and Alicia hadn't seen each other in ten years and she felt she had absolutely no right to sit in on that.

But there was no way around it, at least not yet. She comforted herself, though, that they would have plenty of time alone together soon. Chances were Lydia wouldn't even be around to intrude then.

She cut off that line of thinking before she could follow it. 

They were near Chicago when they switched places, Alicia taking the wheel. It was odd, being in her own car and not driving it, but it was also kind of nice. She got to relax just a little, listen to the music, relay between Alicia and Vernon and not have to really _think_ at all. 

Alicia seemed pretty accustomed to life on the road. She took to the motel life much more naturally than Lydia had, seemed at ease with the way the world passed them by. Sometimes the conversation would die down and she would just stare out at the expanse around them, tapping her fingers along her knee or whispering to herself. Lydia got the impression that wherever she’d been, Alicia had spent a lot of her time alone.

It was midway through the second day when Alicia finally asked about their mother. She still hadn't said exactly what “they” had told her, but she had that same expression of Vernon’s, the can’t-dare-to-be-hopeful one, that broke Lydia’s heart when it came with the quiet words “So, um, what about Mom?”

Lydia waited while Vernon struggled to find the words. Alicia knew within seconds just by the hesitance, but when Lydia finally spoke, she nodded, swallowing thickly. Before she could talk herself out of it, Lydia reached over and wrapped her hand around Alicia’s. She flinched at first and Lydia could tell instantly that she was unused to being touched kindly. It enraged her, and she was about to pull away when Alicia squeezed. She didn’t say anything, but they didn’t move away until they changed seats about an hour later.

They forgot to warn Alicia about the dreams. Or rather, the ending. The first day had been long and emotionally-draining day for everyone, and once they got settled into the motel, they just passed out. Lydia and Vernon spent the dream making slow love in her shower, water pouring over them as they laid kisses over every part of each other they could reach. 

Until Lydia opened her eyes to the memory and woke up screaming.

Alicia was on her feet, flashlight on and pistol in hand before Lydia had even stopped screaming. She was just pointing it all over the room, looking for danger. It took several minutes to calm her down and convince her there was nothing actually wrong. Lydia turned on the lamp and sat on her bed facing Alicia, who finally shoved the pistol and flashlight back under her pillow, and explained to her about the dreams. Well, the ending anyway. 

The scene repeated each night and once during the day, when Lydia drifted off as Alicia drove through Nevada. The dream was short, but she still woke screaming, the sound echoing even more in the small car. Alicia slammed the breaks and they went spinning through the dust surrounding the desert highway. 

“Damn, girl! If we had any doubts you were a banshee, that just about shut them all up, huh?” She was rubbing at her right ear, glancing warily over at Lydia. 

“Sorry.” 

Alicia huffed and got them back on the way, but she turned the music all the way up, singing along despite her previous complaints.

_So give me hope in the darkness that I will see the light 'cause oh that gave me such a fright. But I will hold as long as you like, just promise me we'll be alright_

Lydia bit back all the words she should say. How every time she closed her eyes she saw herself in that mirror. How she was growing more and more sure that the banshee inside of her was winning. That she wasn’t prepared for this. That she was going to lose herself.

\--

It was that night, after they pulled into Reno to rest, that Alicia finally opened up. She’d let out snippets here and there throughout the drive - she’d been on her own and on the run since she was 13, and had only entered back into legal society a month ago when she could finally get emancipated. She’d also dropped out of school because she hadn’t had any formal education since she was six and she was working on getting her GED. She’d known about werewolves since before she was taken. She’d moved to Michigan because as much as she couldn’t go home, she missed living on a western-facing coastline. 

But that night, when they settled into yet another cheap motel, Alicia crawled on top of her bed and sat cross-legged. 

“I think I owe you that story now.” 

Lydia dropped the towel she was running through her hair. “Do you want me to stay or go?” Lydia asked cautiously. She wanted to stay, to finally know what had happened to this tough young woman, to finally know where to direct her anger on her behalf. But this, more than anything else, was not her place to intrude upon. 

Alicia looked up, trust evident in her wide brown eyes. “Stay. Please.”

Lydia crawled into the other bed, sitting across from her and mirroring her position. Vernon spoke and Lydia held up a finger to let Alicia know - they were getting better at this.

“Tell her I’m here and I’m listening.” He paused, seeming to swallow. “And tell her I’m sorry.” Lydia nodded and gave Alicia his messages.

“You have nothing to be sorry for big brother,” Alicia replied. “This all started long before that day at the ice rink.” She sighed, gathering her hair in her hands before letting it drop behind her. It was a motion that Lydia had come to recognize as _stressed_. Lydia let her hands drop into her lap and pulled her lips into her mouth to wet them, resolved to remain quiet while Alicia spoke, although her first words had Lydia dropping her mouth open in shock.

“I met Cora Hale out in the woods when I was playing with Missy Rodriguez. Missy didn’t like her and went back home, but Cora and I started to play. We became friends. She told me about her family that lived deep in the woods and how the kids were all home-schooled until middle school, weren’t allowed to play with others until then. And then she showed me why. Cora could give herself fangs and claws, could hear and see and smell things I couldn’t. I was six and fascinated.

“I didn’t tell you because she told me it had to be a secret, that her family wouldn’t let us be friends. We would play together in the woods all those times you walked me to ballet practice. I would wait until you left, then sneak away. And then one day I noticed a man and woman watching me as I entered the woods, but I was with Cora and I was safe. I asked her to meet me at the dance studio from then on and when I told her why, she brought her big brother Derek with her, said he’d keep me safe. He had a scowl, but she’d made him promise not to tell. And it was okay.

“Until one day you took me to the ice rink and the man and woman followed us. I didn’t notice them until it was too late and the next thing I knew I was in the back of a car and they were calling me a filthy wolf lover. They told me they’d killed you, Vernon, and mom, too. Said it was my punishment for fraternizing with animals, but they were gonna teach me better.

“Their names were David and Cecilia Boucher. They were siblings, hunters whose family waged a war on a strong pack of werewolves up in Canada and they were the only survivors. They’d come to Beacon Hills looking for the Argents, only to find a town full of Hales. They were too small, too weak to start another war with them and taking me was their idea of recruitment. They tried to brainwash me, told me that werewolves were disgusting and dangerous and must be eradicated. I agreed because I was six and scared. Then they trained me, started calling me family, Alicia Boucher. I became the perfect soldier. I behaved when they brought me in front of other hunters. They told them they’d saved me from a werewolf attack that had killed my family and I kept my mouth shut. I made connections as I got older and learned all that I could. I read the Boucher bestiary more times than I can count.

“And then, when I was 13, I killed them. I slashed their throats in their sleep and I wrote yours and mom’s names in their blood. And then I ran.”

It was silent for a long time. Long enough for the tears to dry up on Alicia’s cheeks. Long enough for Vernon to stop shaking out of the corner of Lydia’s eye. Long enough for Lydia to pass from anger and hatred for the Bouchers to pride and respect for Alicia. 

She was the one that finally spoke. “You’ve been alone ever since?”

Alicia nodded. “For the most part. There are some people I trust. A couple of hunters, a couple of wolves, a couple of emissaries, scattered across the country. I’ve kept moving, afraid that some of _their_ friends would come looking for me. Once I got caught by child protective services and placed in a foster home, but I ran away as soon as I could steal enough money to travel.”

“But you’ve never been back to California?” Vernon guessed. Alicia shook her head when Lydia repeated the question.

“I tried to keep up with what was going on. Learned about the fire.” Her voice grew dark, but then she continued. “The kanima. I’d heard that the Alpha pack was heading west, but I had no idea they’d gone to Beacon Hills.”

“She’s alive,” Vernon said from the corner and Lydia looked at him confused. “Cora. Tell her Cora is alive.”

Then there was that look again. Alicia’s whole face lit up with hope. Even still, she was hesitant. “But. . . how?”

Lydia snorted. “That’s actually a great question, and one you should ask her.”

Alicia grinned.

\--

The dream that night was very much like the first. Each night was different - once they held hands and skated around the rink. Another they ran through the rain and ended up cuddling in the backseat of Lydia’s car. Another they watched the moon rise and set on the cliff, wrapped only in a blanket and each other.

But that night, they were back in Vernon’s bedroom, tearing each other’s clothes off hungrily and trying to draw each other’s soul out with their tongues. It was less desperate than the first time, but no less passionate.

Too soon though, Lydia was opening her eyes. She was looking in that mirror, seeing the bloodstained clothes and the dead look in her eyes. But something was different this time. Because suddenly those eyes were turning completely black and the girl in the reflection was grinning.

\--

It took Lydia nearly two full minutes to stop screaming. When she finally took in her surroundings, ears still ringing, Alicia was laying over her, pinning her arms to the bed and shouting her name.

“Lydia! Hey, it’s okay. Shhhhh, it’s okay.” Now that she’d stopped struggling, Alicia was petting a hand over her hair, trying to soothe her. 

Lydia didn’t say a word, just breathed, in and out until it reached a semi-normal rate. Then she nodded and Alicia backed off of her as she sat up. Vernon was standing at the end of the bed, eyes wide and terrified. 

“I’m okay,” she choked out, throat raw.

“That was different,” was all Vernon said.

Lydia’s chest was still heaving, and she brought a hand up, bending into herself. She met Vernon’s eye and lied. “No, it just caught me more off guard this time. It’s okay, really.”

Neither of them looked convinced. 

They didn’t even attempt to go back to sleep. It was early morning on the day of the full moon and there was still a lot that needed to be done, starting with an almost four hour drive. They packed their things and hit the road, crossing into California twenty minutes later.

The drive was silent. Lydia insisted on driving if only so she had to keep her eyes open. Even still, she couldn’t unsee it. It played across her mind and made her feel sick. She knew what it meant, knew it was the banshee inside of her, biding her time. She would win and _that_ would be what was left of Lydia in the end.

And Lydia wasn’t ashamed to admit to herself that she considered it, considered stopping all of this and saving her own life. But then she thought about what life would be like tomorrow, knowing she hadn’t tried, knowing she’d let Vernon go without a fight. . . 

Lydia would hate herself. She would never forgive herself.

So she was going through with this and she was going to fight. She was going to do everything in her power to survive. She’d give Vernon her best, because that was what he’d always given her.

The first place she went was the Hale house. No one would be there, she knew, but that was where they’d buried Vernon’s body, next to Erica’s. 

Lydia stepped out of the car, followed by Alicia, but as soon as her foot hit the ground, she knew something was wrong.

“Wait.” 

Alicia froze, looking over the hood at her. Lydia took a couple of cautious step, trying to pinpoint what was so off about the feeling. 

“The dead have been disturbed.” It took a moment for Lydia to realize the whispered statement had come from her. When she looked down, she saw that she was standing at the foot of two open graves. Alicia and Vernon were off to her left and they were staring at her.

“Lydia?”

Vernon’s voice seemed far away and she forced herself to _focus_. Vernon’s body was gone, along with Erica’s and _something was wrong_.

Lydia pulled her phone out and was dialing Stiles in seconds. He didn’t pick up though and that was weird. She called Derek next, who thankfully answered.

“ _Hello?”_

“Derek, it’s Lydia. Did you move Vernon and Erica’s bodies?” she asked, even though she knew the answer. 

“ _No, why the hell would I-”_ There was a pause, then, “ _Fuck.”_

“Derek, I know words aren’t your strong suit but a little comm-”

“ _Peter showed up last night.”_ Of course. “ _He’s up to something and I’m gonna guess that this is only the beginning.”_

Lydia’s stomach dropped. “Do you have any idea where he might have taken them?”

Derek sighed over the line. “No, but I know it’s not anywhere good. Stay away from him, Lydia, he’s dangerous. I’ll deal with it.”

Lydia smirked. “You never change, do you Derek?” She could almost hear him roll his eyes.

They hung up and Lydia was just standing there over the graves. How could this be happening? After _everything-_

“Lydia? C’mon, talk to me. What’s happening?” Alicia was closer than she had been, arm reaching out toward her.

Lydia looked up and met Vernon’s eyes. He knew, but before she had a chance to say it, her phone began to ring. The number was unknown but Lydia didn’t need three guesses. “Peter,” she answered, voice cold.

“ _Hello Lydia. It’s been a while. Did you enjoy your trip?”_ His voice was slick and casual and it sent Lydia’s skin crawling. It made her feel helpless and small and she _hated_ that.

“Cut the crap. Where are they?”

“ _Safe. And they’ll remain so as long as you do as I say.”_

Lydia groaned. She remembered how this game went. “What do you want?”

“ _Good girl.”_ Lydia swallowed the bile that rose in her throat, trying to breathe passed it. “ _I know what you’re planning and I have no intentions of stopping you. But you’ll need to do something for me first.”_

“And what is that?” She saw Vernon shaking his head and Alicia’s confused expression, but she turned away, staring into the pit that had held Vernon’s body.

“ _Nothing you need to concern yourself with at the moment. I’ll bring everything you’ll need for Boyd and for me. Just bring yourself and that brilliant smile of yours.”_

Lydia inhaled sharply as the image of the banshee smiling back her flashed across her mind, as vivid as if she were there, but she pushed it down. There was no way he knew. “When and where?”

“ _Midnight. Top of the cliff. I don’t think I need to explain what will happen if you don’t come alone.”_ He hung up then, leaving Lydia standing with her phone in her hand. 

She had the good sense to turn when the bile rose again and Alicia was there, holding her hair back as she emptied the contents of her stomach across the dead leaves. As she caught her breath, she glanced to her right, towards Erica’s grave. 

What did Peter want with Erica?

“I’m not letting you do this.” 

Lydia ignored him, wiping her mouth with the back of her sleeve and standing back up.

“Lydia, listen to me. You cannot do this. You know him. Whatever he wants you to do, it’ll be _bad_. It’s not worth it.”

Lydia met his eyes, all of her anger now being misdirected at him. “Stop saying that, Vernon! Yes, you are. I’m doing this, whether you like it or not, because I can’t _not_. I will never be able to live with myself if I let you die.”

Vernon was suddenly _right there_ , inches from her face. “Newsflash: I’m already dead.”

She reacted as if having been slapped, looking away with nostrils flared. “Don’t say that.”

“I’m not going to stand here and watch you destroy yourself for this.”

Lydia met his eyes and spat out, “Then don’t watch.”

At that, Vernon fell back, expression hurt as he nodded. “Fine.” 

And then he was gone. 

\--

“You wanna tell me who Peter is and why my brother’s body is mysteriously missing?” Alicia’s tone made it clear that what Lydia wanted to tell her didn’t actually matter. 

Lydia pursed her lips, hands gripping the wheel. Alicia had seen Lydia’s side of the argument with Vernon, but she hadn’t asked about it. She’d just nodded when Lydia met her eyes and followed her back to the car.

“Peter Hale. Derek’s uncle. He bit me about a year and a half ago, then Derek killed him. He used that connection, got into my head and used me to bring him back.” She realized belatedly just how monotone her voice sounded.

“Oh.” Alicia ran her fingers through her hair, drawing it over to the side. “And now?”

“He took them, both of them. I don’t know why he took Erica but I’m sure I’ll find out tonight. He wants me to meet him on the cliff and if I play by his rules, I’ll still be able to do the ritual. Whatever he has planned though. . . it’s not good.”

“But you’re going to do it anyway?”

Lydia glanced over to her, surprised by the tone. “Are you going to try to stop me?”

“Honestly? No.”

Lydia nodded. “Good.”

\--

There were still several hours left until the full moon rose and she had to meet Peter. Lydia should go see her mother. She should spend some time with Allison. Call her father, or _something_ at least. 

But she couldn’t face them, even as her time was running out. Couldn’t say goodbye to them or explain why she was doing this. She didn’t want to spend her last hours here explaining herself. 

“Alicia, would you be okay if we went to the ice rink?” She assumed the girl would say no - she didn’t exactly have the best memories of the place - but then Alicia was grinning.

“I’d love to. I even brought my skates.” When Lydia glanced over in surprise, she added, “Honestly I’ve always felt closest to him when I’m skating.”

Lydia gave a soft smile. “Same.”

So they spent the day skating. Lydia ran through her routine once, and then she stopped to watch Alicia. Because Alicia was _good_. She was graceful on the ice in a way that couldn’t be taught and yet she still had control over every motion.

It was unsettling, being here without Vernon, but she didn’t want to call for him either. Not because she was feeling stubborn - she just honestly didn’t want him to have to watch what was about to happen. It would be better that way.

After a while the two of them just began gliding side-by-side. They didn’t need to speak, but Lydia could tell that Alicia had figured it out, knew what the cost of bringing Vernon back would be. That she seemed sad about it gave Lydia a little bit of comfort. 

The rink closed and the two left the ice together. When they got back to the car and had put their stuff in the back, Alicia pulled Lydia close in a tight hug that was so much like Vernon’s that Lydia couldn’t help but melt into it.

“Thank you,” Alicia whispered against Lydia’s hair. 

Lydia let herself cling to Alicia, let herself shed tears on the young woman’s shoulder. Let herself mourn the life she’d lost, the one she was giving up. 

Until finally it was time and they had to go. Vernon still hadn’t come back and Lydia really wasn’t sure she expected him to. He must have figured it out, as Alicia did, that Lydia didn’t expect to come out of this alive. 

Before she started the car, Lydia pulled out her phone and sent two texts - one to her mother and one to Allison. She owed them that much at least. She didn’t have the energy to say goodbye to anyone else, to Stiles and Scott and Cora. She kept it simple, just an _I love you_ to each of them, but when she set the phone back down, Lydia felt her heart break.

“You ready?” Alicia asked as the drove through the woods.

Lydia inhaled deeply before answering. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“So what’s the plan?”

Lydia looked to her, giving her a once over. “You be as quiet as possible and pretend you’re harmless. If he thinks you’re a threat, he’ll act rash. But he’s a werewolf, so don’t lie.”

“What about you?”

“I’m going to do what needs to be done.”

Everything was exactly as Peter had promised. Vernon’s body lay on the ground next to Erica’s and the sight sent spikes through her chest. He looked so utterly ashen and lifeless, clothes still stained with his blood, and Lydia felt her hands shaking even as she exited the car. She dragged her eyes away to note the mirrors and how they were currently directing the light to Erica. She also noticed the sigil already drawn across Vernon’s chest where Peter had ripped open his shirt. She felt sick at the idea of Peter’s hands on him, but she choked it down, walking forward and waiting, Alicia at her heel. 

She felt uneasy and it was more than the situation she had walked into. There was _something_ here, something that shouldn’t be.

“I asked you to come alone,” a voice said darkly. Lydia spun to her left to see Peter coming out from behind a tree. Her eyes were dragged down to the black box in his clawed hands. It was about half the size of a shoebox and was covered in sigils and symbols that were glowing a deep purple. Just looking at it had Lydia’s stomach turning; it seemed to resonate its wrongness. 

Peter cleared his throat, and Lydia forced herself to glance up to see him looking at her expectantly. “This is Alicia. I need her.” 

Peter’s face took on a cruel sort of smirk that Lydia couldn’t stand. “Ahh. Alicia _Boyd_ perhaps?” Alicia nodded once. “Nice to finally meet you my dear. Welcome to the party.” There was an obvious threat underlying his words and Lydia was doubting her decision to bring Alicia here. 

Lydia’s eyes were drawn back to the box as Peter bent to place it next to Erica’s body. He crouched down and then glanced back up to Lydia. “Come here,” he ordered.

She stiffened, holding her ground. “Tell me what you want me to do first.”

Peter’s grew dark for a moment at her insubordination, but he rose, stepping toward her. He gestured back to the box and Lydia swore she could almost hear it screaming. “Please, try to contain your shock, but before the fire I had a wife. Her name was Elizabeth.”

Lydia couldn’t imagine what kind of person could ever love the man before her, but then she was distracted. Suddenly the pieces were falling into place and Lydia very nearly got sick again. 

“You trapped her soul, didn’t you?” she accused, backing away. This was wrong. This was _so wrong_. “She died in the fire and you trapped her soul in that box for _seven years_.” Lydia didn’t even want to know how he’d done it, or who had helped him. She didn’t want to have anything to do with it. She could feel the soul, feel it pulling on her. 

It was tormented and angry. It was _twisted_.

“She would have done the same for me, if I had been the first to go.” He seemed so _calm_. 

“You’re sick.”

“I’ve never denied that,” he replied. “But none of this is at all relevant. Here we have a body without a soul and a soul without a body. And, of course, the banshee to put Humpty Dumpty back together again.”

But Lydia was shaking her head. “She’ll be rabid.” Lydia could feel it, emanating from that box. If whatever was inside got loose, she was sure it would wreck havoc.

“That is entirely none of your concern. But maybe we should make this a little more interesting.” In the blink of an eye, he was standing with Alicia, claws wrapped around her throat. Peter couldn’t see the livid expression on her face from where his was pressed against the side of her head, but Lydia could. She could see that Alicia was about to fight back and shook her head infinitesimally as Peter continued speaking. “If you don’t do as I say, not only will you never see your precious boyfriend ever again, but I’ll slash her throat just for the fun of it.”

Lydia hated him. Lydia was going to _destroy_ him. She was going to tear his heart out with her own two hands and send that bastard back where he belonged..

Rage in her heart, Lydia resolved that she would to do it. She was going to survive. She was going to hold onto herself. She _had_ to. For Vernon, for her mom and Allison and the pack. And for herself. 

Lydia clenched her fists and met Peter’s eyes. “What do I have to do?”

“ _Good girl_ ,” Peter purred against Alicia’s ear. Lydia could see that she was close to snapping, but she needed to hold on just a little bit longer. “There’s a knife laying over there.” He nodded his head toward Erica, and Lydia began to move toward her, Peter pushing Alicia in front of him to follow. Alicia was being eerily quiet and Lydia just hoped she could behave long enough for Lydia to get through this.

Lydia kneeled down on the ground next to Erica, noting the post-mortem gash across her chest. Ignoring the nausea rising in her stomach from being so close to the trapped soul, she grabbed the knife and looked up to Peter for further instructions. 

“Elizabeth was encased under a blood ritual, so her soul must be in contact with your blood through the transfer. I’ve already taken the liberty of creating an entrance point to the body of the lovely Ms. Reyes, so you’ll just need to-”

“Yeah, got it.” Lydia inhaled, bringing the blade to her palm. She exhaled, biting back the groan as she dragged the edge along the width of her hand. Dropping the knife, she brought her palms together, ignoring the whimper of pain in the back of her throat as she spread her own blood across her palms and fingers. 

Clenching her jaw, Lydia spat out, “What now?” Her hand was still dripping blood on the ground

“Lydia, please stop this.”

Lydia’s head whipped around to see Vernon standing beside her, eyes pleading. “Vernon, I-” 

“Pay attention now, Lydia,” Peter scolded and Lydia heard Alicia gasp. She could see that Peter had drawn blood along her neck and Lydia had to force herself not to move. “You can have your reunion later as long as you do this for me. Think about what’s at stake.”

Lydia looked up and met his eyes. “ _I hate you_.” Even to herself the voice sounded dangerous.

“Join the club. Now, cover the cut in Erica’s chest with your blood.” Lydia did so, whispering apologies to Erica as she rubbed her fingers along her mutilated flesh. This was so _wrong_. “Good. Place your fingers in the divots along the box and her soul will be drawn to you. You’ll need hold her carefully in your palms until she’s close enough to Erica. She’ll be drawn in, your blood acting as a guide. Then all you’ll need to do is place your hand over the gash, sealing her in. Once she wakes, we’ll leave and you can bring back your Boyd in peace.”

“Don’t do it, Lyds.”

Closing her eyes and dropping her head, Lydia whispered, “I’m sorry.” Then she reached for the box.

And that was when Alicia made her move. 

All she heard was a roar and the sound of something flying through the air, but when she looked up, Alicia was moving towards her and Peter was standing against a tree, hands scrabbling at his neck. In the moonlight, Lydia could see the silver barbed wire wrapped around his throat and digging into the bark of the tree. He was attempting to shout, but it was coming out gurgled and distant.

“C’mon, we have to hurry,” Alicia was saying, wiping away the blood dripping down her neck. “It’s coated in mountain ash, but it’ll only buy us a few minutes. Tell me what I have to do.”

After taking a deep breath, Lydia stood. “Um, mirrors.” Lydia moved past Alicia, finding the last mirror and grabbing hold.

“Go, kneel next to him,” Lydia instructed. Alicia did so. “Grab his hand and wrap it around your arm. He’s going to draw your blood when he comes to, but I promise it won’t be deep.”

“It doesn’t matter. What now?” Alicia was panting and Lydia realized she was to. 

This was it. Lydia gave one last glance to where Vernon was standing helplessly next to Alicia, goodbye in his eyes. She mouthed _I love you_ , then turned back to Alicia.

“Now I do this.” 

Lydia gripped the mirror, tilting it so that it was directed at Vernon’s body. The pale moonlight made the macabre scene even worse, but then Lydia felt the energy expanding across her chest and body, all the way through her to the finger and toes. A heavy breeze blew at her back and Lydia could _feel_ her, could feel the banshee inside her opening the portal.

Alicia was shouting, but Lydia was too distracted by the way Vernon’s clawed fist clenched around Alicia’s arm.

She didn’t have time to _think_. The banshee was powerful, she was all-consuming. Lydia tried, grasping at memories and emotions, trying to hold on to _something_ , but she could feel herself losing.

“Lydia, your eyes!”

Lydia looked back to her, and the last thing she remembered, would ever remember, was her lips spreading in a wide grin.

\--

\-- 

Not that Lydia had really ever given it much thought - which was surprising, really, given the year that she’d had - but if she had, she never would have expected death to be this _loud_. 

There also wasn’t the life-flashing-before-your-eyes thing everyone was told would happen. There were some memories here with her though, like her sister teaching her to ride a bike when she was four, her father’s disappointed eyes when she chose to live with her mother, and Allison’s surprised smile when Lydia told her that she was dating Vernon, the one that reminded her of how much she loved her best friend’s pure sincerity. There was also that first smug smile on Vernon’s face just before she kissed him and the way his arms felt around her that day in the rain.

But Lydia felt weightless, ungrounded. It reminded her of what Vernon said being dead felt like, floating around aimlessly as the world rushed by. She couldn’t feel the tether though, but she supposed that made sense - Lydia wasn’t coming back from this.

Which is why she was confused that it was so _loud_. It was almost like she could hear voices, but they were crackled and faint as if coming through on a bad radio signal. She couldn’t make them out, even though they seemed to be getting louder.

She could feel herself being drawn upwards, dragged, really. It was a heavy feeling, sluggish and foggy and Lydia didn’t like it, tried to pull back, fight it. 

But then were was a warm sensation in the general direction of where she thought her hand should be, pulling her even more strongly, and Lydia melted into it. Warm was good, she remembered. She _liked_ the warm.

\--

When Lydia opened her eyes, she was confused and it took her a long time to realize why. She just sat there, noting the feeling of a blanket over top of her and the warm sensation still covering her hand, trying to figure out why she felt so out of place as she stared up at the ceiling above her.

“Shhhhh,” a soft voice said. “She’s still adjusting.” Lydia looked over to see a woman sitting next to her with wildly red hair and a gentle smile.

Then it clicked.

“I should be dead,” Lydia said to her.

There a soft, breathy chuckle at her other side and it sent Lydia’s heart racing. “I think you’re getting the roles switched up a bit there, darlin’.” 

She turned her head against the pillow to see Vernon sitting on the bed next to her, her hand grasped between his. Glancing away from their hands, Lydia’s eyes roamed his body up and down, taking it all in, from the solid form of him indenting the mattress to the twinkle of a smile in his eyes as he looked down at her.

Before she had the conscious thought, Lydia was sitting up and throwing herself into his arms, crashing their lips together. She _clung_ to him, just because she could, because he was here and so was she, and it was a miracle in its simplicity. He clung back, pressing a broad, warm hand against her back and pressing her closer, licking into her mouth

The sound of a throat clearing reached them then and Lydia pulled back, turning to see that the room was full of people. 

She wasn’t even sorry.

Allison and Isaac stood behind Vernon, and Lydia didn’t miss their hands clasped together. Allison looked exhausted, dark bags under her eyes. Scott and Stiles looked the same, standing at the end of the bed. Danny was there, too, standing just behind the boys. Derek was hovering at the back behind Cora, who stood next to Alicia stood, both of them beaming. 

“Well, hello _everyone_.” She could feel herself grinning though, happy to see them all.

“Um, Lydia, sweetheart. . .” 

Lydia glanced over and noticed that her mother was there, standing next to Epona, who sat at her side. She also realized that she was still facing away from everyone, half thrown atop Vernon. 

Clearing her throat, Lydia wet her lips and turned around in Vernon’s arms, sitting next to him against the headboard. “Sorry.”

There was a pregnant silence in the room, everyone staring at her, and it was making Lydia tense. “What?” she asked. “Is something wrong?”

“It’s just, uh, good to see you awake,” Stiles answered. 

Lydia winced. “How long was I out?”

“Nearly three days,” Epona replied. “But we’re lucky it wasn’t longer.”

Lydia swallowed thickly. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but why are you here?”

Epona sighed. “Because you needed me. Because I couldn’t let you do it alone.”

Lydia’s eyes flicked to her mother’s, concerned that they were saying too much, but her mom looked completely unaffected. 

“Aunt Eppy told me enough.” Which Lydia knew meant she would have to fill in the gaps. That would be a hard conversation. “Most of it I already knew, I just didn’t. . . I didn’t believe.”

Stiles shifted uncomfortably at that and Lydia watched Scott bring his arm around his shoulders and give him a reassuring squeeze. Lydia smiled softly at them. 

“What happened exactly? The last thing I remember was. . . _her_.” 

Epona nodded. “She was winning. I arrived just as your eyes turned and I pushed was able to push her back, just far enough that your soul was able to grab hold again.”

“Thank you. I know that it wasn’t-” Her voice cracked and Lydia felt Vernon’s thumb against her cheek, wiping away a tear. “Thank you.”

Epona shook her head. “I shouldn’t have turned you down back in New Orleans. I should’ve been at your side.”

Lydia gave her small smile, letting her eyes drift flutter closed as she felt Vernon rubbing his cheek against her hair. Then she remembered the other thing. 

“What happened to Peter?”

Alicia smirked. “Your aunt threw him off the cliff.” Lydia’s eyes grew wide.

“It was really more of a gentle push,” her aunt clarified, but Lydia could see the self-satisfied smirk playing on her lips. 

“He survived, though, right?”

Epona nodded slowly.

“We’re going to get him.” Allison’s voice was strong, confident as it was angry. Lydia disentangled her arm with Vernon’s to reach over and grab her hand, squeezing.

“No,” she disagreed with a sad smile. “I am.” She looked back to Epona. “Right?”

Epona nodded, pride evident along her brow. 

“What about the box? The trapped soul?”

Epona’s expression grew dark, dangerous. “Destroyed.”

Nodding, Lydia mused, “Anything else I should know?”

A lot, apparently. 

Allison told her about the kitsune - Lydia loved it when she was right - that had come into town just after Lydia left and started terrorizing everyone. Turns out that was just her way of saying hi and flirting with Scott. Lydia was proud of how well Allison managed to conceal her jealousy. Having her new boyfriend in the room probably helped. 

Scott told Lydia how he’d become an alpha and why he and Stiles and Allison had sacrificed themselves for their parents. Lydia remembered Epona’s words about tampering with death as he talked about the effects it had been having. 

Stiles was eerily quiet through it all and it had Lydia worried. She didn’t want to ask him about it in front of everyone, but she could see he wasn’t well. He didn’t fidget quite like normal, had a slump to his shoulders and an air of disinterest that was entirely unlike him. Allison and Scott seemed affected, but Stiles. . . Stiles looked shattered.

Derek and Cora told her about the trip they’d gone on, but they were vague about the “family relics” they’d brought back. Cora seemed friendlier than before, more animated and it was good to see. Derek, too, though he still looked as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Danny just leaned back against the wall calmly until he had a chance to speak - Lydia vaguely remembered Vernon telling her that he’d found out and had stopped speaking to everyone, but apparently he’d ended the silent treatment. He’d dumped Ethan and helped drive the twins out of town - Scott wouldn’t let anyone kill them apparently, which surprised exactly no one. But they weren’t welcome here and that gave Lydia a small comfort as she moved her thumb back and forth across Vernon’s hand.

The whole time the others were talking, Vernon was nuzzling against her cheek or grazing his nose against her hairline or rubbing his hand in circles over her thigh. They were being reacquainted, saying hello with actions rather than words.

Eventually, though, Lydia’s mom asked for everyone to clear the room. Lydia stood, pulling Vernon with her, and gave everyone a hug. Derek and Cora and Danny and Isaac went first, then Scott and Stiles, to whom Lydia whispered, “It’s gonna be okay.” For a second, the Stiles she knew poked through and gave her a small smile before following the others out of the room.

As Epona turned to go, Lydia asked, “When do we leave?”

“Day after tomorrow. We have a lot to cover, but I have a feeling you’re going to be a fast learner.” Lydia nodded. She was ready.

Alicia came over next, planting a kiss on each of their cheeks. Her eyes lingered on Vernon’s and it made Lydia’s heart grow in her chest. This was a _good thing_. Families reuniting, lives being pieced back together. Lydia didn’t have to ask to know that Alicia would be staying here, with Vernon and Cora, back home where she belonged. She didn’t have to run anymore.

When Allison finally approached, Lydia could see it in her expression, the war between anger and happiness. She pulled Lydia close, and Lydia could feel wetness along her shoulder. For the first time, she felt truly guilty for the way she’d handled things.

“You’re lucky you survived because if you didn’t, I was going to _kill_ you for saying goodbye like that,” Allison whispered against her ear, heavy voice betraying the emotion behind the threat. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again, okay?”

Lydia nodded, squeezing her best friend tighter. “Promise. And I’m sorry.” She meant it.

They just held each other for several moments before Lydia pulled back, looking Allison in the eye. “Also, Isaac?”

Allison bit at her lip, failing to hide a smile. “It’s a long story.”

“Eh,” Lydia joked, shrugging. “I’m not gonna say you have _type_ , but _two_ puppy-faced werewolves. . . tsk tsk tsk.” 

Allison grinned, laughing, then embraced Lydia once more before heading out.

It was just Vernon and her mother left, and Lydia didn’t know which she needed to talk to most. Her mother made the decision for her, though, moving over from next to the bed with a content smile on her face. 

“I should probably be angry or disciplinary or something, but I am just so happy that you’re alright.” She pulled Lydia in for a hug, arms wrapping tightly around her shoulders like they always had when she was a kid. “Tomorrow you and I are going to sit down and have a nice long chat, okay?” Lydia nodded against her mom’s shoulder. “But right now, I’m going to grab my purse and go out for a long movie” 

Lydia smiled and nodded, her mother’s meaning clear. No one could ever say her mom was anything but the best. She was, of course, where Lydia had learned it all.

After she’d left, Lydia turned, world still rocked to see Vernon standing there, whole and real. She reached forward and laid her hand against his chest, just because she could. He brought his arm up around her, pulling her close and she melted into his warmth. 

“How much do you remember?” she asked against his chest.

“How much of what?” 

Lydia lifted her head to look at his serious face. “The last month? Traveling and New Orleans and Michigan and all of it.”

Vernon shook his head a little. “Lyds, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was _dead_.”

Lydia gasped. How could he not remember?

But then Vernon was grinning and Lydia was swatting his shoulder. “ _Not_ funny!”

Vernon tilted his head, winking at her. “Kinda was.”

“Ugh!” Lydia bit back the amusement, falling back against his body. “I love you,” she whispered softly.

He wrapped his arms all the way around her, head laying against her own. “I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic is mostly canon compliant up to the end of season 2, and then it diverges. Most of the events of season 3a still happen, but not in quite the same way to account for the relationship between Lydia and Vernon (she was never with Aiden, he was never in the vault etc). Plot for Lydia diverges completely after 307. Anything relevant will be explained or hinted eventually. But I did mess with canon a lot. Mostly the dates, but also certain relationships and circumstances, such as how Peter could touch Lydia in the show, but Vernon cannot do so here. Season 3a gets spread out across their entire junior year and current time takes place the beginning of the following summer (which is when I placed 307). The various flashbacks are not in chronological order whatsoever, but take place starting just after season 2 and leading up through season 3a.  
> It's my headcanon that Lydia as Boyd's girlfriend would refer to him as his first name,Vernon, so that is how he is written. However, I get this could be jarring for some people and am considering posting a secondary version where it's all written as Boyd.  
> Warnings: Canon character deaths, i.e. Erica's and Boyd's.  
> First chapter is /really/ angsty and sad.  
> Also, the main title and chapter titles all come from the song [No Light, No Light](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HGH-4jQZRcc) by Florence + the Machine. It seemed fitting.
> 
> The chapters are meant to be a different take on the "5 stages of grief": Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance. Loosely.


End file.
